


Three Black birds

by fire1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Follows the books to a point, Harry Potter/Daphne Greengrass (end game pairing), Harry can be clueless but still smart, Harry potter dates different girls at different times, Harry potter is 2 years older then Canon, Light Angst, Main Characters: Harry Potter Daphne Greengrass Roderick Malfoy (OC older brother of Draco Malfoy, Not a Harry potter harem story, Not everthing is canon there is differnces, Potter parents are alive, Potter parents forgetfulness or preoccupied with Younger brother, There are OC in the story, big Malfoy family drama, harry has a younger brother, light Potter drama, much more knowledgeable Harry Potter, posted for Excited-Insomniac but I helped plot out and create fic, posted on FF.net by Excited-Insomniac (main author)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-04-06 19:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 242,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19069492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire1/pseuds/fire1
Summary: When Voldemort attacked the Potters on Halloween, the wizarding world hailed Harry's younger brother Thomas as The Boy Who Lived. But were they right? As Tom starts Hogwarts, wheels are set in motion, assumptions are questioned, and lives are changed forever. Harry's POV. He's two years older than canon, light, and smart. Eventual HP/DG.





	1. Prologue: Perchance To Fly

**Author's Note:**

> For the most part I am Just going to leave the Note's Excited-Insomniac but in at the being and end of each chapter that is on FF.Net. The two of us starting working on this story almost 6 years ago. We created the OC's Together and plotted out the story together. but Excited-Insomniac wrote all the chapters out. I am going to post two chapters a week on Sundays until we are caught up with with FF. Net. We love review, comments and thoughts from Harry Potter fans and fans of the story. However if you leave hateful review I will remove them. Constructive, thought out will meaning criticism is fine and welcome but hate is not. There is to much hate in the world we don't need it in our fandom.  
> -Fire1

Prologue: Perchance To Fly

If one were an owl soaring over the British countryside on a cool midsummer morning bearing a letter that would shortly change a young boy's life quite drastically, one might be given to wax poetic about the fields and dells and picturesque little villages gliding past below. One might marvel at the importance of the task one has been given, and anticipate the pleasure one was about to impart. One might go so far as to turn a couple loop-de-loops on the dulcet breezes from the sheer joy of being alive and doing what one does best.

But this owl was an ornery old barn owl, and if one were him, one would fly grimly on through the dissipating fog, anticipating with neither pleasure nor pain the reaction one's burden was about to cause. One would simply deliver the letter and be done.

As Potter Manor came into view over a low hill a couple of kilometers outside of Godric's Hollow, the large bird slowed, rehearsing its letter's address: Harry Potter, south-west bedroom, Potter Manor, Godric's Hollow, West Country, England. Very simple.

The owl gusted over the low stone wall surrounding the property, ruffling his feathers at the annoying buzz of protective enchantments. The darn things itched like anything. Now, south-west bedroom…

But wait, it couldn't –? That wasn't the boy himself, was it? That scrawny little scrap of cartilage jogging along the inner perimeter of the wall? The owl surveyed him critically, and decided two things: yes, it was the boy to whom the letter was addressed; and, if he was a mouse, he would definitely not eat him. Not nearly enough meat on him yet, and that unruly black patch on top would be horrible coming back up.

Nevertheless, the owl was not there to decide on the hypothetical culinary quality of skinny human males. He was there to deliver a letter. So, pulling in his wings, the owl took a steep spiraling dive down at the little human below…

Harry enjoyed his morning run on general principle, but this morning's was particularly fine. The sun was rising beautifully in the east, the horizon a wash of peach and orange. His parents and Tom would be home from France very soon, and his dad was going to teach him and his friends to fly. To fly! And after all, it wasn't every day a boy turned eleven.

A sharp pain at his shoulder pulled him out of his pleasant mental ramblings. It felt like a pinch or a large hailstone – or an owl dropping a letter from above. The crotchety-looking animal settled in a nearby tree and watched him disapprovingly.

Harry grinned at it and bent to retrieve the letter. All of his parents' mail would have been taken to the back window of the kitchen for Tipsy to collect, and he would see anyone who would send him a birthday card later in person, so that had to mean…

He turned the thick, creamy paper over in trembling hands. Yes! Yes! The Hogwarts crest! That wonderful, magical, promising crest! He gave a wild, exalted "WHOOP!" of joy and sprinted up the south field to the kitchen entrance at the side of the large manor house, leaving a disgruntled barn owl behind.

"Tipsy!" he shouted wildly, "Tipsy, I got my letter! I got my Hogwarts letter!" He dashed around the scrubbed kitchen table, laughing exuberantly and catching the small, green house elf up in a lung-emptying hug.

"Master Harry, that is excellent news!" the tiny creature squeaked when she had been put back on the floor and regained her breath. "Tipsy just knew Master Harry would get his letter on his birthday! What an excellent birthday surprise!" She pushed her tiara back on top of her knobby head, beaming widely. Harry had given her the tiara a little over a year ago, after begging his Uncle Sirius to put a Perpetual Sparkle Charm on it, and the bauble was Tipsy's most prized possession.

"Isn't it perfect? Isn't it grand?" Harry continued rapturously. He hadn't even opened the envelope yet, wanting to prolong the moment. "I can't wait to show Mum and Dad and Uncle Sirius! Oh, and Tom will be stark raving envious! I'm going to go show the portraits!"

"Master Harry, Master Harry, did you still want Tipsy to wait to make the special birthday pancake breakfast?"

"Oh, yes, I want to learn to do that. Just a moment, Tipsy!"

And with that, the skinny, bespectacled, tousle-haired, and newly-eleven year old boy tore out of the kitchen, through the dining room with its Floo fireplace, up the stairs, down the wide hall and skidded to a halt at the entrance of the Potter Manor library.

"I just got my Hogwarts letter AND turned eleven," he announced proudly to the five portraits arrayed along the wall next to the windows.

A chorus of approval went up.

"Well done, young Harry!" cried Melody Potter, nee Peverell. "Congratulations!"

"You'll inherit the key to your trust fund now that you're schooling age!"

"Wonderful job, my boy!" called Aldous, the very first Potter.

"Happy birthday!" added Abram.

"Always knew you could do it!" from the pompous Gregory Potter, ex-Defense professor.

"Oh, hush, you old coot, of course he could do it, he didn't need you telling him…" Gregory and Melody weren't known to get along.

"Now, madam, a little encouragement goes a long way: I learned that in my days as a teacher you know."

"Fiddlesticks to your days as a teacher! Well done, Harry!" cried the cheerful and elderly Edith.

"Thank you, everyone," Harry said, smiling. He loved the portraits, and their banter was reminiscent of all the days spent studying in the library on his own, with only them and the books they recommended as company.

"What did your parents say?" Aldous, the oldest portrait called from down the wall.

"They're not home from France yet, but they will be soon. Dad's going to teach us all to fly!" His heart fluttered at the prospect. He had never been allowed to fly properly before, not on a real broomstick. Dad had always wanted to teach him and Tom, but Mum said it was too dangerous.

"Well, bully for you, my boy! Now go eat: you're half starved, by the look of you." The portraits chuckled and Harry dashed back down the stairs, grinning ear to ear.

The pancake breakfast was a disaster and a catastrophe and a mess all rolled into one, but, Harry reflected, the end result was doubly delicious because of all the errors and mistakes. Tipsy gave up on him half-way through, which probably didn't help matters at all, but she partook in the eating of them, and proclaimed them to be "You know, not too bad, considering." Especially when smothered in honey and strawberries and cream.

Cleaning up after themselves took the better part of two hours, after which Tipsy suggested they clean out the rest of the house too for when the Master and Mistress Potter and young Master Thomas arrived back, and Harry threw himself into the task with gusto. Everything would be perfect when Mum and Dad and Tom got home, and then his friends would come and they'd all learn to fly, and it would be perfect. His birthday would finally be perfect. Mum and Dad had promised they wouldn't forget after last year.

By 1 that afternoon, Harry and Tipsy had run out of things to dust and scrub and mop, and she had retreated to the kitchen again, leaving Harry in the large dining hall with the fireplace that was connected to the Floo Network, patiently waiting for the flash of green light that would signify his family was back.

But half an hour passed, and then another, and Harry began to drowse. It felt like he was melting into the sofa, and the fire was awfully warm and yellowy and green and –

GREEN!

He sat bolt upright, ignoring the shudder that always happened at the flash of green light, eagerly anticipating his mother, his father, his brother, and getting…  
Roderick Malfoy.

The boy stepped from the emerald flames as if off of the red carpet, showing all the poise and breeding inherent in his name – until his grey eyes flashed and he broke into a mischievous smirk. He was about six months older than Harry, though two inches taller and much paler, and more sturdily built than his friend. His parents' influence showed only in his white-blonde hair and the unquestionable quality of his clothing. Otherwise, as he liked to say, he was his own sort of person.

"Hello, Harry! Happy birthday, mate!" he thrust out a hastily wrapped package before plopping onto the sofa next to his friend. "You look about knackered. Your mum have you doing your room on your birthday or what?"

"You've beaten them here, actually. But yes, I have been cleaning some. We made a proper mess in the kitchen making breakfast this morning."

Roderick grinned. "Anything I could have poisoned my brother with?"

"Sadly, no; the food itself was fine."

"Rubbish."

"Sorry."

They were silent for a moment, watching the flames.

All of a sudden, Roderick leapt to his feet: "DID YOU GET YOUR HOGWARTS LETTER?!"

Harry jumped up too. "YES! An owl dropped it on me!"

"Brilliant!"

"We're going to Hogwarts! Hogwarts!"

"Hogwarts! Away from my stupid prat brother and my father!"

"Yeah! Hogwarts!"

And that was how Daphne Greengrass discovered them a split second later when she literally somersaulted out of the fire.

"Delf!" the two boys chorused, helping the disheveled ten-year-old to her feet. She was skinny and pixy-ish with a sharp chin, a mess of wavy dark-brown hair and large eyes that were sometimes, well, any color. She was currently rather exasperated, so they were a sort of browny-orange.

"My brother pushed me!" she exclaimed by way of explanation as soon as she had all her hair out of her face and all her limbs oriented correctly. "Right as I was stepping in. I'm lucky I didn't wind up at… Plodder's… Cabin!"

"Is that a real place?" Harry inquired dubiously.

"Well, even if it wasn't, I would still go there," she said crossly, eyes snapping orange. Harry pursued the issue no farther. "Anyway, happy birthday, Harry," she said, smiling cheerily, her temper forgotten in a heartbeat. Delf was just like that sometimes. She handed him a gift wrapped in blue paper with a white ribbon, which he accepted and put on the side table.

"Where are your parents?" she asked, peering around curiously.

"Not here. Either you're early or they're late, and I bet it's the second. You know how Tom can get sometimes." The other two nodded sagely. Thomas Potter, Harry's nine-year-old brother, was notoriously uncooperative. They were patient with him though: it just came with the territory of being the Boy Who Lived. Allowances had to be made sometimes. Harry had been making allowances ever since he was three, when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named killed Grandma Potter and tried to kill Tom, giving him his famous crescent scar. Harry come out lucky, with only a crooked little scar on his forehead from debris of the house falling around him and a lifetime of coming second in everything.

"Where are they again?" Roderick asked.

"France. The Magical British Embassy is putting up a memorial for the War, and they wanted Tom there." Normally his uncles would have been there too, but this year his birthday fell on the day after the night of the full moon, so Uncle Sirius was helping Uncle Remus recover. Harry was disappointed about this, but not upset.

"Right," Roderick said vaguely.

"So what should we do?" Delf voiced the question they were all thinking. With no parents around, the main attraction clearly couldn't start yet.

"Well, you've never been here before. Want a tour?" Neither the Malfoy nor Potter families were keen on having their children traipse around the others' house, so the Greengrass' home was the usual meeting point for the three of them. Roderick and Delf were visiting the Manor for the first time in their whole friendship.

"Yeah, sure!" the other two chorused.

First, of course, he took them to the kitchen, where they met Tipsy and she gave them ginger snaps. So provisioned, they meandered around the rest of the bottom storey, seeing the large sitting room across the entrance hall and the coat room, where Harry showed off his secret way of peeking out at the near-by front door so you could see who was arriving and if you had to keep hiding.

The staircase took them to the second storey landing, where they were given brief viewings of Tom's room (the door tastefully decorated with a Chocolate Frog card bearing a picture of none other than Tom himself) and his parents' room which Delf quickly declared 'boring' and Roderick corrected her to 'spare and sophisticated'. She retorted than he was a 'perfectly aristo bourgeois prat' who should be 'ashamed for using words like that at the age of eleven'. Sensing an argument that wouldn't be serious but might take a while, Harry distracted them by showing them his room, which was smaller (and, to his mind, much nicer) than his brother's or parents'. His windows faced south and west, and were the first things to see when the door opened in the north wall.

"You see, this is exactly what I thought your room would look like," Delf said with satisfaction as she stepped across the threshold.

"And you're properly loyal, I see," Roderick noted approvingly, nodding to the Quidditch posters of the British team on the wall above his desk.

Delf pointed at his bookcase. "Have you read all these?" she demanded incredulously.

"No, of course not," Harry replied, smiling. Seeing his friends in his room was strange, but he liked it. "Those are the ones I want to read by the end of summer."

She nodded, distracted by one of the titles she saw.

"Did you get your Hogwarts letter?" Roderick demanded of her, sidetracked once again.

"YES!" she exclaimed, whirling around.

"We're all going to Hogwarts!" Roderick crowed triumphantly.

"We'll have the whole library there!" Harry exclaimed rapturously. "And I'll be away from Tom! Not just the brother of The Boy Who Lived anymore!"

"And my brother too!" Roderick cried. "He'll have to stay and I won't see him for months! And my dad either!"

"Who cares about any of that?" Delf interjected. "We'll get to learn, and properly use magic! REAL magic!"

"We'll get to learn magic," Harry and Roderick repeated in rough, awed unison. They all took a second to let that sink in, but then the moment broke and they all jumped up and down, shouting, "Hogwarts! Hogwarts! Hogwarts!"

"Hey, wait. Wait, wait, wait. Why don't we go to Diagon Alley?" Roderick and Delf were silenced by the audacity of Harry's suggestion. Go to Diagon Alley? Alone? Without parents or anyone? How… how… how tempting. "We could do our Hogwarts shopping all by ourselves!" Harry was warming to his theme. "One of the portraits told me I get a trust fund when I turn eleven. Just think: we could get books and robes and wands, our own wands."

"Yeah," Delf chimed in. "And when we get back your parents will be here and your dad will teach us to fly."

"Exactly!" Harry smiled happily, ignoring the twinge of anxiety at the mention of his parents being home. Today wasn't just a birthday: it would be an adventure. Even if his parents were late coming home from France, going to the Alley would be an adventure on its own.

"But… what if they come home and you're not here? What will they think?" Roderick asked.

"We'll tell Tipsy where we're going. Come on, Roderick, let's go!" Delf encouraged.

The blonde boy hesitated. "Well… alright, fine. But if we get in trouble, I'm throwing you both right under the Knight Bus."

Harry grinned. "Understood."

They had all been to Diagon Alley before, of course. It would have been nigh impossible for a young witch or wizard to make it to the age of eleven (or, in Delf's case, ten and eleven months) without having visited the famed street.

But now, oh, now. Now it was all theirs! They had no parents dragging them thither and yon on some mysterious adult errand; they had no whiny younger siblings to dictate the course of the outing; they had only themselves and the wide, wide world.

First, of course, they went to the bank, as they would be needing money to do those more interesting things like buy candy and books and wands. Gringotts was only more impressive than ever since there was no one tall and confident to hide behind, but Harry took a deep breath and marched on in through the main front doors, flanked by his two friends. He really did try not to gawk, but his efforts were largely wasted. The place was just so….brilliant. The second set of doors had the same inscription as they always did, but it had never seemed so… direct. All that about finding more than treasure had a rather ominous ring to it. Which, Harry supposed, was the point.

Gulping anxiously, Harry approached the long counter at the far wall, where a row of surly-looking goblins sat engaged in various important-looking money-related activities. Harry went up to the one with the least grouchy-looking face and cleared his throat nervously.

The goblin peered down at him as if inspecting a bit of lint. "Yes?"

"Er, um. Hello. My name's Harry Potter, and I turned eleven today."

"Congratulations," the goblin said sarcastically, looking back down at his ledger.

"Well, what I meant was, don't the Potters all get trust funds opened to them when they turn eleven?" His stomach twisted. Had the portraits been having a joke on him? He'd never heard of this trust fund business before they mentioned it, and wouldn't his father have said something to him? Wouldn't he have known?

"Hm…" the goblin muttered, reluctantly returning his attention to the overly-serious trio before him. "And can you prove your lineage? You could be any urchin off the street seeking to gain from the Potter's fortune for all I know."

Harry's heart sank. Proof? It had never entered his head he'd need to prove who he was. He had thought no further than opening his trust vault and having a birthday adventure with Delf and Roderick. They must think he looked like a fool by now. "I'm Harry Potter," he mumbled. "I turned eleven today." The goblin regarded him dispassionately for a moment and then reached into a drawer on his left and pulled out a small clear glass sphere, no bigger than a baby's clenched fist. He handed it to Harry, who examined it curiously.

"What is your name?" the goblin asked.

"Harry Potter, like I said," the boy replied, puzzled. Blue-ish grey fog swirled within the sphere.

"What is your age?" the goblin asked.

"Eleven years old today," Harry said, beginning to catch on. The blue tinge intensified.

"Why have you come here?" the goblin asked.

"To recover the key to my trust vault, as is the right of every Potter when he comes of age," Harry proclaimed triumphantly, and the sphere shone pure blue.

The goblin smirked. "I suppose you are who you say you are." He recovered the little ball from the boy, ignoring Delf's wimper of desire to examine it. "Very well, Mister Potter, if you would just wait here a moment." He disappeared as he hopped off his tall stool, leaving three excited children in his wake.

"That was amazing!" Delf exclaimed. "It was like a Remembrall and a mood ring and a Miracle Fish  
all rolled into one!"

"What's a mood ring?" Roderick inquired.

"Yeah, or a miracle fish? What's wrong with regular old kippers?"

"Well, you know that old man who sells silly gimmicks right near the wall portal from the Leaky  
Cauldron?" 

The boys nodded. "My dad bought me a few things there once, and mood rings and Miracle Fish are funny Muggle inventions for telling what mood you're in. Mood rings change color and Miracle Fish just sort of sit there in your hand being useless. Rather daft, if you ask me. After all, if you can't tell what mood you're in, why should a bit of plastic?"

"Sort of like your eyes, Delf," Harry cut in eagerly. "They change color with your mood. You've got mood ring eyes!"

"Oh, stuff it," Delf muttered, blushing a little bit.

At that moment, the goblin returned, announcing his presence by ducking under the counter and standing grouchily before them. He dangled a tiny golden key on a thin bit of string in front of Harry's eager face. "Your key, Master Potter. Now, if you will be so kind as to follow me, I shall escort you to your vault."

They followed him across the foyer to one of the many small doors in the wall, which opened into an ominously dark and dank… cave? Railway ties stretched away to their right and left, but straight before them was a black void which Harry would not have hesitated to dub 'bottomless'. Lanterns hung on each side of the doorway behind them, and the goblin took one off its peg, making the shadows undulate weirdly.

The goblin whistled shrilly, and, lo and behold, a simple four-wheeled trolley that looked suspiciously like an ancient coal cart rolled into view from their left. A pole was erected in one corner of it, the purpose of which was soon explained as their guide hung the lantern from the hook at the top. "Well, climb on in. I haven't got all day, you know."

But the three friends hung back, wide-eyed and nervous. "Do you think it'll fly off the rails?" Roderick whispered worriedly. "If it gets going fast enough and hits a curve wonky or something?"

"I don't like to think what would happen to us if it did," Harry returned, eyeing the gulf before them distrustfully. The little gold key was slick in his sweaty hand.

A moment of tense silence. Then, "Well, wasn't this meant to be an adventure?" Delf demanded hotly. The boys shook themselves out of their stupors and grinned sheepishly.

"You're right," Harry said, expressing a bravery he didn't really feel. "Let's go." They clambered into the trolley and settled themselves on the two narrow benches within, Harry sharing the front one with the goblin, and Delf and Roderick behind.  
From the first screechy lurch of the trolley, Harry knew they were in for a ride exactly as petrifying as they had anticipated. The lantern above them did very little to light the tracks before them, and the banker didn't seem to navigate or direct the cart at all, which Harry didn't find incredibly comforting. And then all of a sudden, the tracks just – disappeared. Delf's shrill wail of terror in his ear as they plunged into the darkness was all that kept Harry from thinking he'd suffered a heart-attack of fright and died right then. For what felt like several agonizing eons, their tiny cart swooped and swung through the darkness, first sailing one way before suddenly careening another direction entirely.

Harry almost couldn't believe it when the blasted thing finally skidded to a halt. They were there. They had made it! They weren't dead! He, Delf and Roderick scrambled madly out of the cart, almost too shell-shocked to say anything at first. Then, there were a fair number of celebratory exclamations before Roderick shushed the other two and gestured to the door set in the wall next to them. Harry almost hadn't noticed it with everything else. "Go ahead, mate," Roderick suggested. "We've come this far; don't want it to have been for nothing, do you?"

"Definitely not," Harry agreed, and advanced towards the door.

The goblin cleared his throat. "If you don't mind, it's bank policy for one of us to open the vaults."

Harry blinked. "Oh. Alright, here," he said, feeling slightly put out at his lost piece of adventure.

The key slid easily into the lock, and he dimly heard the sound of some inner mechanism tumbling into place. The door swung open. Harry's jaw dropped.

He had known in a conceptual way that his family was very rich. They had a big house and nice clothes and expensive books and furniture. But somehow it had never connected that they had so much money. There were mounds of it, piled all over the floor and reaching most of the way to the ceiling in some cases. Big gold Galleons, silver Sickles, little Knuts. And this was only his trust fund, an insignificant portion of their true fortune. It was all Harry could do to keep his eyeballs in their sockets.

"Done drinking it all in?" said a sarcastic voice at his elbow. Harry looked down and saw the goblin standing next to him, arms crossed, looking impatient. "If you wouldn't mind collecting what you came down here for, we could all get on with our lives, don't you think?"

"Oh, er, right," he muttered, making a mental note to ask Master Jerome about goblin etiquette, and cast about for something to carry the money in. Spying a small leather pouch on the floor a few feet away, partially buried under a mountain of Sickles, Harry fetched up against another problem: how much should he take? He had never shopped for anything before. What would the prices be like? What if all this money wasn't actually as much as it looked like?

After a few moments of indecisive agony, he settled on fifty Galleons, twenty Sickles, and fifteen Knuts. That ought to about cover it, whatever 'it' turned out to be. And, he supposed, he could always return if he had to, though the idea sat like a cold stone in his gut.

The return trip was reassuringly sedate, however. It was mostly uphill this time around, meaning that there could be no sudden plunges into utter darkness like before.  
But still, even once they were outside again in the midsummer sunshine, they all three agreed that Gringotts was a decidedly unnerving place.

But with the sun above and the Alley before them, their leftover discomfort didn't stand a chance. They meandered happily among the shops, stopping at Florean Fortesque's for ice creams, then for a look in the exotic pets dealership (where Delf discovered she had a hitherto unknown deep fear of poison-spitting tarantulas, which the boys found perfectly reasonable), and then Roderick had the brilliant idea for Harry to actually open his Hogwarts letter and see where he had to go.

Mildly surprised that he hadn't thought of that earlier, Harry pulled out the envelope, which had gotten slightly squashed from being in his pocket during the trip in the Gringotts cart. He broke the seal almost worshipfully, and pulled out the sheet of parchment.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he read aloud as the others clustered close behind him. "Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand blah blah blah, oh, here. Dear Mr Potter, We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress." Harry blinked at the page. "But that's today!" he exclaimed.

"Of course," Delf said. "When did you get this?"

"This morning. I was just so excited that I forgot to open it or anything. I even forgot to meditate! Master Jerome says we must meditate every day so that we can learn the mind arts someday, and I've been really good about it." The other two exchanged a glance, each asking the other 'have you been doing that?' and each responding 'nope'. Harry tended to be a more dedicated student than the other two.

"Well, there's a post office a little way behind us. We can go there and send your note back."

They did just that. The other two scouted out an owl that didn't take their fingers off when they reached for it while Harry scrawled, As of July 31 when I got the letter, I accept the spot at Hogwarts offered to me. Thanks, and sorry for being a wee bit last-second about it, Harry Potter. It felt a bit stiff to him, but he couldn't think how better to say it without coming off cheeky.

Back in the street, they examined his list together, sorting the items by how interesting it would be to get them and coming up with, in order of least interesting to most.

'random other materials' (consisting of a pewter cauldron, crystal phials, telescope, brass scales, dragonhide gloves, and various potions ingredients)

Uniform  
Books  
Wand  
They also decided they needed new trunks to be well and truly prepared for Hogwarts, and that went on after 'random other materials'.

'Random other materials' took several stops to fulfill. First they visited the cauldron makers, who advertised everything from giant iron cauldrons that Harry, Roderick and Delf could have sat in comfortably and had room for more to tiny fragile glass ones that barely would have fit a drop of water. Harry purchased his boring pewter, size 2 cauldron, brass scales, and set of crystal phials and asked the wizard at the counter to shrink them for him for ease of transportation. The man obligingly did so, explaining that the enchantment would end at dawn the next day. The trio left the shop, a well-pleased Harry bearing a cauldron the size of his cupped hands, which held his other purchases.

Next they visited the apothecary, and 'ooh'ed and 'aah'ed over the incredible diversity of ingredients. Delf admired the unicorn horns while Harry dared Roderick to eat a pickled Bowtruckle liver, until his unimpressed friend pointed to the small placard at the front of the bin which read 'poisonous'. Slightly subdued, Harry collected the items specified on his list and had the witch at the counter shrink them, including the dragon-hide gloves, and they left shortly thereafter.

Getting his astrology things proved rather difficult, though for quite an unforeseen reason: a mere hundred meters away from Weird Willy's Astrology Shop, Home of Weird Willy's Famed and Absolutely Accurate Fate-Predicting Frog, Delf pulled up short outside a shop Harry's mum sometimes went in. His dad had always taken him and Tom elsewhere when she did though, so he had never paid it much mind. But now, with all the attention born of curiosity and adventuresomeness focused upon it, it became very interesting indeed. Wooden mannequins strode about in the large window display, wearing… well, what would those be called? They weren't bathing suits, clearly, and even girl's underthings weren't so… see-through.

"What are those?" Delf demanded of nobody in particular, voicing the question that was certainly also occupying Harry's mind.

"I saw my mum in one once," said Roderick in a low voice. "When I was a little kid, I went down to the kitchen for a glass of water, but when I was going back upstairs with it, I tripped and dropped the glass, and I got a bit in my knee. Mum and Dad came out of their room to see what the noise was about, and Mum was like that," he indicated the figurines "and Dad was… um." He trailed off, suddenly red in the face.

They all glanced at each other uncomfortably, and turned, in the same moment, towards Weird Willy's. A brass telescope and star chart were acquired with no fuss, though the Famed and Absolutely Accurate Fate-Predicting Frog (actual name: Herbert) told Harry he'd have his heart broken by the end of the day. He also told Delf that she should focus on Mars for good luck in the next month, and warned Roderick to stay away from people whose names began with D.

"Well," he said as they left, "at least that lets me avoid Dad and Draco, eh?"

"Yeah, and me," Delf noted.

"Why, that's no problem: I've secretly hated you for years anyway."

"Oh, very funny!" She punched him on the arm. Harry laughed.

The Trunk Depot wasn't difficult to find: the storefront was shaped like a gigantic steam trunk. The roof/lid opened and closed slowly, looking for all the world like a humungous monster trying to gobble up the sky.

The merchandise was surprisingly interesting: there were trunks that packed and unpacked themselves, trunks that cleaned the clothes put into them, trunks that never got filled up, no matter what you put in them. Trunks in various National Quidditch team colours. Tiny little trunks like hatboxes, and giant ones that looked like they would fit dragons. Trunks that sang with the lid opened, trunks that could be instructed to spit stinky ink if the wrong person opened it. Roderick excitedly identified one that had a false bottom, creating a secret chamber. It made use of a mechanical Muggle trick which none of them really understood, but, the salesman boasted, it was completely undetectable by magic. It was quickly decided that they all needed one, and Harry bought his with all due haste. The other two made arrangements for two to be held for them when they came back to do their own shopping with their parents.

When they left the shop, Harry's trunk was the size of a shoebox, having had the same enchantment as his cauldron placed on it, right down to the time it would wear off. He was excessively pleased.

They were just getting near Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions when Delf gasped excitedly and pointed at a nearby window display, which proffered a staggering selection of different colours and shapes and styles of picture frames. She pointed at one in the upper right corner of the window. It was silver, about thirty centimeters per side, with three spaces for photos, two above and one below. "We should all get one of those!" she cried, seized by one of her random spurts of enthusiasm. Her eyes were bright green with excitement. "Then we can all put our letters in one space, our marks in another at the end of the year, and a photo of all of us at Hogwarts in the third! Come on, let's all go in and get one. Roderick, do you have some pocket money? It says they're two Galleons each: is that alright? Come one, come on!"

She conducted all the business with the skeptical-looking witch at the counter, and the frames were purchased with little fuss, and Delf discovered a passion she never knew she had either, which was scrapbooking (the boys found this less reasonable than a terrible fear of poison-spitting tarantulas, but didn't say anything). By the end of the 20 minute detour, each of them had one of the silver frames tucked under their arms, and Harry and Roderick had collectively bought Delf quite a quantity of scrapbooking materials, including three of the books themselves, as an early birthday present. Her plan was to make them all scrapbooks of their first year a Hogwarts.

After that, they spent fifteen minutes or so in Madam Malkin's, where Delf and Roderick entertained Harry by putting on fancy dress robes and pretending to be mad posh while Madam Malkin's assistant pinned Harry's robes to the right length.

"Maw-ster Malfoy," Delf chortled as they left the shop (and a rather vexed-looking Madam Malkin) behind them.  
Books were next on the agenda, so they headed off for Flourish and Blotts, where Harry had them shrink his set again so they fit in his shoebox-sized trunk. By then there was only one thing left to get: a wand.

Harry paused reverently outside of Ollivander's shop. How often he had passed this shabby, narrow little building, longing for the day he would get to go inside and get his very own wand. The wand on the dusty purple pillow in the display gleamed in the afternoon sunshine, and hazy dust motes swarmed behind the glass.

Harry was so excited as he stepped into Ollivanders shop that he could hear the blood pounding in his ears with every heartbeat. He could feel the latent magic of the place. All of that potential packed into so little room…. The air buzzed with it. An old man looked up from a fat book on his desk when the bell announced them.

"Ah," he greeted them warmly. "Here for our wands, are we?"

"I wonder what else people come in here for," Roderick murmured.

"Contraband," Delf whispered back. "Clearly."

"Yes, but just for me, actually. These two are coming back later," Harry said politely, shushing the other two with a gesture behind his back.

"And you'd be a Potter, I can see that," Mr Ollivander said, coming around the counter. "You look just like your father, you know. Though those could be no one else's but Lily's eyes. I can still remember when they came and got their wands here, oh, twenty-some years ago now. But who are these? You're a Malfoy, obviously." Roderick looked slightly affronted. "But the young lady?"

"Daphne Greengrass," she said firmly, just as Harry blurted, "This is Delf."

"My, my," the old man tittered. "Where does one come across a name such as that?"

"My little sister used to not be able to pronounce my real name," she explained, glaring her orange glare at the other two, clearly angry at them for making her explain the nickname to yet another stranger, "—and these two prats kept it going."

"My sympathies, then," murmured the wand seller tactfully. "Now then, Mr Potter. Shall we begin?"

Harry nodded, suddenly nervous. Neither of his friends had any older siblings, so all they had to go on was hearsay. Would he have to prove himself worthy somehow?

"Well then. Which is your wand arm?"

"Er. My right, I suppose."

"Very well, very well, hold it out – like so, if you please, yes –" he pulled a small tape measure out of a pocket and proceeded to make a series of measurements that got more and more unorthodox as they continued. Shoulder to wrist, elbow to thumb joint, shoulder to waist, around his head, kneecap to chin, between his nostrils – by this time Mr Ollivander had left the tape measure to its own devices and was busy pulling slim boxes out of the floor-to ceiling stack behind him. "Let me see. Your mother's was willow, your father's mahogany, so perhaps we shall begin there. Though bear in mind, familial history has little to do with the selection of wands: it is the wand, after all, that chooses the wizard, not the other way around. That will do." This last was addressed to the tape measure, and it crumbled to the floor. By this time there was a large stack of slender boxes piled upon the rickety desk. Harry glanced back at Delf and Roderick, who both looked rather nervous at the wealth of words and wands the elderly man seemed to possess. "Well, let's just take a start with these then, shall we?"

Mr Ollivander handed him wand after wand to test out, but before Harry could do anything much but hold them and feel slightly foolish, they were snatched away from him again and another quickly replaced it.

"Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy! No, no, willow and dragon heartstring, ten inches, very stiff," he flitted here and there among the shelves, pulling boxes out seemingly at random. "No, of course not, ash and phoenix tail feather, six and three quarter inches, pliable! No? Well, then, a bendy nine inch maple and dragon heartstring? No, no, not at all—!"  
Harry had no idea what the old man was looking for, but, contrary to what Harry expected, he only seemed to become more excited as the stack of rejected wands grew.

"Ah! Ha-ha, here boy, just for a lark, give this one a swish: holly and phoenix tail feather, eleven inches, quite supple, here, just to see."

Harry gripped the wand gingerly, expecting it to be yanked out of his hand yet again as countless others had before. Instead, a warm sensation spread up from his fingers and all the hairs on his body seemed to stand up at once. Waving it experimentally, a fountain of golden sparks jetted out of the tip. He stared at the bit of wood in amazement. Delf and Roderick, when he shot a look at them, looked amazed and enthusiastic, but Mr Ollivander was positively thunderstruck.

"Why – why, my dear boy, this is – remarkable, I dare say – I dare say, I hardly expected… I mean, if anyone, your brother is the one I would have – why, I dare say!"

"You keep saying that," Delf cut in impatiently. "What's so special about this one?"

"Well, young lady," Ollivander said, drawing himself up a little bit. "It just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather makes up the core of this wand did not only donate one feather, as is customary, but two. The other was placed in a wand of yew and sold many years ago, many years before you were born, Mr Potter. And how strange to think that – that the brother of this wand would go on to give your brother his crescent scar and change the world forever."

Harry gaped. "He Who Must Not Be Named got this wand's brother? Then… Tom should have it, not me. Here." He tried to thrust the wand back into Ollivander's hands, but the man danced away behind the desk and mountain on wands.

"No no, Mr Potter, once the wand chooses the wizard, the bond is made! No other wand would ever do as well. But it is curious…. Very curious that this wand should choose you…"

Harry looked down at the wand uncomfortably. The smooth holly felt warm against his hand. He could do magic with this wand, the wand that had chosen him. But its brother had killed Grandma Potter, had scarred his brother after doing its best to kill him. Its brother wand belonged to Voldemort.  
But….

"Fine," he said, looking up from the fist clenched around the wand, his wand.

He paid seven Galleons for his wand, and he and Delf and Roderick left the shop.

The afternoon suddenly seemed less warm, less like a fun adventure and more like the part where the adventure goes a bit dodgy and the hero's a wee bit scared. Roderick, sensing his shift in mood and perhaps feeling some of it himself, suggested they head back to Harry's house to have cake and presents and learn how to fly. Harry gratefully agreed and they headed back to the Leaky Cauldron. Spotting the gimmick vendor by the wall portal, he bought Delf a mood ring for two Knuts, saying wryly, "Let's see how often it matches your eyes."

They took the Floo from the Leaky Cauldron. Delf took a stop at her house to drop all her scrapbook stuff off, so she went first. Harry went next, stepping into the emerald flames and saying clearly "Potter Manor." A sensation of spinning, of a myriad of fireplaces and rooms, and then he was standing safely in his own fireplace, looking out at the large dining hall he had left only a few hours earlier.

"Mum!" he called, stepping from the hearth. "Dad! I'm home! Where is everyone? Tom? Hello?" Tipsy appeared in the doorway leading from the kitchen, fingers tangled miserably in the folds of her linen pillowcase.

Harry's heart sank.

"They isn't home yet, Master Harry. They's very late." Her giant eyes welled with tears under the crooked tiara.

Just then, the fire flared green behind him and Roderick stepped from the flames.

"Hullo again. Still waiting for Delf then, are we?"

"Yeah, her and my family both. I hope the Floo Network's going alright. Oh, you know what? They probably took a Portkey instead! I bet they just got the destination clause of the spell mangled. They'll be here as soon as they get it all sorted and Apparate back." Harry nodded firmly, putting on a show of certainty he didn't feel at all. They had promised. After last year, they had promised not to forget again.

The flames became emerald once more, and Harry's hopes rose in spite of himself, but sank once again as Delf's skinny frame stepped clear of the mantelpiece.

"Long time no see." She grinned. Then, seeing the boys' expressions and Tipsy's quiet tears in the corner, she became quite grave. "What's the matter?"

"We think Harry's parents' Portkey went wonky and they're late," Roderick explained succinctly.

"Ah." Delf nodded. "Well, what say we have your birthday tea without them? It's their own loss, wouldn't you think?"

Harry nodded, grinning wanly. "Yeah, let's do it," he agreed. "But first… could you please promise not to tell anyone what Ollivander said about my wand? Especially not my parents or Tom: I think they'd be really freaked out."

"Sure, mate," Roderick reassured him. He mimed turning a key in a lock at his temple, trapping the information inside.

"Yeah, I mean, it's not like I'd ever have a chance to say 'Hey, Mr and Mrs Potter, did you know Harry's wand has a brother that belongs to You-Know-Who and nearly killed your second son as well as Mr Potter's mum? How does this make you feel?'" Delf agreed, wrapping the whole thing in sarcasm, as was customary for her. Harry smiled at his friends thankfully.

Tea managed to be a surprisingly cheery affair. They had treacle tarts, little cucumber sandwiches cut into triangles, raspberry jam tarts, scones with melted cheese on top, and lemonade. The other two convinced him to open the gifts they had brought, calling it a preview of when his family got home with all the things they got him in France.

Harry happily complied, ending up with a nifty basic potioneering kit from Delf and a cool little knife whose blade changed shape when he twisted a knob on the end of the handle from Roderick.

Afterwards, they hung about in the library for a while with the portraits, who were full of odd bits of information and advice about Hogwarts, such as,

"The Come and Go Room is your friend."

And, "Tickle the pear in the basement if you're nippish between meals."

And, "Use my Cloak sparingly, you hear me, boy?"

And, "Get on outside and have some real fun: you don't want to listen to us blather all day."

So they went outside into the afternoon sunshine and threw stones at the apples on the highest branches in the small orchard by the north wall. This got boring really quickly though, since Roderick had the best aim and wouldn't let the other two win at all.

Finally, Harry burst out, "Oh, bugger it all, let's just teach ourselves to fly already."

The other two stared at him, mixtures of excitement and wariness writ wide over their faces.

"Yeah, alright," Delf finally agreed, nodding. "Bugger you parents: they're not here yet, so we'll just have to do it ourselves."

"Well, hang on…" Roderick said cautiously. "I'd think about this. I, at least, haven't flown a lot before. Wouldn't it be smart to have some supervision at least?"

"Come on, Roderick, don't be a spoil-sport. It's Harry's birthday. Besides, we don't have to do anything dangerous or anything."  
"Right," Harry agreed eagerly.

So they all trooped around the house to the shed against the east wall. It was where James kept all of his old brooms he no longer used, but weren't in bad enough condition to get rid of, and the family owl, Godric Merlin Gryffindor liked to roost there when it rained. The padlock on the door was large and solid, albeit rusty, but the key hung on a peg under the eaves. Harry got on Roderick's back and grabbed it easily, and 30 seconds later, they were in to choose their brooms.

They each picked out decent Cleansweep models and crossed the lawn to halfway between the shed and the apple trees. Dredging up memories of the times he had seen his dad skirmish against his uncles and old school friends and Quidditch teammates, Harry instructed the other two to hold their brooms on their right-hand side.

They all mounted somewhat awkwardly, and then everyone seemed to wait for someone else to kick off first. Finally, after several moments of nervous glances shot back and forth, they all kicked off at the exact same moment and took to the skies.

From the first rush of air against his face, Harry knew this was precisely where he was meant to be. This was what the day was all about: not Gringotts, not picture frames, not getting his wand. He was in the air, going up, up, up! And as far as he was concerned, he was never coming back down again.

He watched as the features of the grounds, so familiar from the earth, became smaller and stranger from his new vantage point. The trees were just bushy clumps of greenery now, and the roof was the only part of the house he could see. Roderick and Delf gusted around below him, and he waved exuberantly down at them. Roderick was getting the hang of steering, like Harry, but had stayed closer to the ground to do so. Harry reflected that that might have been a smart idea.

Delf, on the other hand, was having a bit of a hard time. She was gripping the handle like it was an angry snake, and the wind was pushing her farther and farther towards the trees by the north wall. She was wobbling back and forth on the broom like it was twisting around beneath her and trying to throw her off.

"Relax your grip!" Harry shouted over the distance. "Pull up a bit or you'll hit the trees!"

But she didn't hear him, and the breeze was picking up. Roderick was beginning to swerve around a bit too, fighting the wind to try and stay level.

'That's wrong,' Harry thought to himself. 'You can't beat the wind. You just have to let it carry you.'

Delf's sudden shriek distracted him from Roderick's flying techniques. Her bristles had become entangled with the little branches at the very top of a tree. Her vise-like grip was doing her no good as she began to slide off the front of the broomstick. Harry estimated quickly: the drop was close to 10 meters. Maybe not far enough to kill, but enough to do some serious damage.

Harry let instinct take over as Delf slipped off the end of her broom and screamed shrilly…

Down, down, down Harry pelted, like a comet, like lightning, his right arm stretched out as far as it would go. He had to catch her, he had to! She was screaming, she needed help, she needed him! Down, down, down, he had her! Tucked tight against him, but only meters from the ground now, too fast to stop, too fast –

Crack!

Something exploded in his arm. Someone was screaming. Was Delf alright? Why was it so dark?  
He came to on his back, on the sofa in the dining room. His whole body was numb. Delf, Roderick and Tipsy hovered over him anxiously, their faces blurry.

"Wha…?" he mumbled, the syllable containing all the questions teeming in his brain: What had happened? Was Delf alright? How did he get inside? Why did his body feel so funny? Where were his parents?

"You caught Delf out of thin air! It was wicked!" Roderick exclaimed.

"Are you alright? You saved me!" He could hear the tears behind his other friend's voice.

"Master Harry is so brave!" Tipsy blubbered. "Tipsy always knew Master Harry was kind, but never that he was so courageous! He saved his friend!" the house elf wailed loudly and began blowing her nose on a large spotted hankie.

"You… sort of broke your arm though, mate," Roderick added quietly. Tipsy's howls increased in volume, and Delf began to sniffle too. Harry looked down at himself, and discovered his body to be rather awkwardly swaddled in a blue woolen blanket. There was a large purple-red stain above his torso. His left arm was crossed over his chest, and seemed to be the source of the problem. Harry was mildly surprised he could think about it so candidly.

"We've been trying to decide if we should take you to St Mungo's or not, but you were only unconscious about two minutes after we had Tipsy bring you in—she levitated you. Do you think you could move enough to make it to the fireplace?"

"No, I don't want to go. Mum's a Healer. She'll be home soon and help me."

"Harry, it's nearly six. Do you still think your parents will be home tonight?" Roderick sounded worried.

"They have to. They promised." He didn't see them glance at each other, but he knew they did anyway. Tipsy sniffled loudly and mumbled "So kind, so kind…"

"Harry, your bone's poking out your –"

"I'm waiting for Mum."

Tipsy shrieked "SO KIIIIIND!" and sprinted back to the kitchen, where there were presumably more hankies to replace her already-sodden one.

A pause.

"Right. Then I guess we're waiting with you."

Delf nodded firm agreement.

Harry began to get some feeling back as the next half-hour progressed because Tipsy's magic was wearing off. First his toes tingled, and then they became freezing cold. His gut began to churn as pins and needles convulsed down his spine. His temples began to pulse in time with his heartbeat and sweat broke out across his forehead. Last to come awake was his broken arm.  
At first it felt like a great snake had come alive inside his skin. It slithered around for a while, became comfortable, but then it bit. Tipsy had used some kind of house-elf magic to dull the pain a little bit, and had nearly stopped the bleeding, but it still felt like his whole arm was on fire, like there was lava flowing in his veins. He wished he could chop it off. He wished he would pass out again. He wished the pain would stop. The stain on the blanket slowly spread.

The clock struck seven, then seven-thirty. When it got to eight, he said to his friends, "You're supposed to be going home now. Your parents will wonder where you are if you stay any later." Speaking made his head throb, and whoever was whacking his arm with that axe really had to stop.

"Not a chance!" an orange-and-hazel-eyed Delf shouted, leaping up from her seat at the foot of the sofa. "We're not leaving till your mum gets home and fixes you!"

'Orange for anger,' Harry thought irrationally. 'Hazel for worry.' He grimaced. "Please. You can't help me by sitting here waiting for them. Just go home. It'd make me feel better knowing you aren't wasting your time with me."

Roderick scowled. "But then who'll look after you? You might die right here and no one would know for ages." He looked a little guilty for the display of ill faith in the Potters, but didn't retract it.

"Tipsy can watch me. She's done it when I've been ill and stuff. Besides, it won't be ages. My parents will be home really soon. They'll probably get here as soon as you've gone." Harry no longer believed this, but he didn't want his friends to know. His parents had forgotten again. He didn't know when they would be home. But he didn't want his friends to have to wait with him till they came through that fireplace. He didn't want the shame of seeing their pity grow with every passing minute as they saw how late it got. If they went home, he could tell them his mum and dad had come home five minutes after they'd left. He didn't want Delf and Roderick to know his parents didn't love him.

"Please," he repeated. "It's what I want. You're not doing anything Tipsy couldn't do, and they'll be home soon."

Roderick continued to scowl and Delf's lower lip trembled under sad-grey eyes as they agreed to leave. Delf brought Tipsy from the kitchen while Roderick Flood away to Malfoy Manor, then stood over him, staring like she wanted to say something but couldn't think of how to start. Finally, she just rubbed a lock of dark-brown hair across her cheeks to remove any residue of tears and turned smartly into the emerald flames. She was gone in an eye-blink.

Tipsy spooned broth and warm water into his mouth as the evening progressed. His arm never stopped its stabbing pain, and the flames never turned green to announce his parents' return.

Harry heard the clock strike nine, then ten, but he passed out shortly after that, some tiny sliver of his heart still hoping….

"Great Merlin, Harry!" was the sound that woke him around nine the next morning. Stupefied with sleep and pain, he couldn't warn his father not to pull the blanket off him, and that's exactly what happened. Harry screamed. His arm had swollen to the point of being nearly unrecognizable overnight, and was colored something like salami. The pale bone poked grotesquely out of his skin, and all the blood had hardened and congealed, making his front ghastly and disgusting. Harry hadn't seen it yesterday, but he knew it must look a lot worse than it had. James was cursing loudly somewhere close by. "Lily! Lily, come quick, Harry's broken his bloody ARM—"

A short, panicky scream. "Harry, what happened?!"

There were paragraphs and paragraphs of things Harry wanted to say to them. Paragraphs of flying, of falling, of breaking, of waiting, of waiting, of waiting.

But all that came out was "Tried flying…. Fell…."


	2. Chapter One: A Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter one, I hope everyone like the prologue. Just one note, you all should know a lot of chapters have already been written. 
> 
> I hope everyone has a good Sunday happy reading.  
> Fire1

Chapter One: A Dragon

Potter Manor started coming awake around 8 AM. Various items of clothing were pulled out of their hiding places and put on. Breakfasts were eaten. Joyful exclamations were made as a young boy discovered a certain piece of mail from a certain magical school an owl had delivered an hour earlier.

Of course, by the time any of this was happening, Harry Potter had already had his morning run, done a half hour of meditation, eaten breakfast, taken a shower, and retreated to the library with his own Hogwarts letter, which he had purloined from the owl as it had arrived at 7 that morning, before Tom or his parents were even thinking about waking up.

He read over his letter, noticing, as he did so, that it had arrived on his birthday again, just like it had two years ago when he turned eleven.

Harry had changed since then. He wore his hair long, more like his Uncle Sirius than his father. He had started using contact lenses the previous year, ridding himself of the glasses that also marked him as James's son. The running and Quidditch practice at school had helped him look a little less scrawny, and he was at the age where he was naturally bulking up anyway. But some things he couldn't change: his eyes were still green. His hair was still thick, black, and unruly. He was still very skinny, even with the muscle he was gaining. And that annoying little crooked scar on his forehead hadn't faded a jot, unlike Tom's famed crescent scar, which had become more flesh-coloured as time wore on.

"What does it say, Harry?" inquired Melody from behind him.

"Indeed, what news of my old workplace?" Gregory added.

Harry turned to face them as the other portraits made noises of interest. "It's not so much news as instructions and a shopping list," he replied. "And I'm a third year now, so I have new courses to prepare for."

"A-ha!" Gregory exclaimed. "Allow me to suggest Divination, if I may. All the eligible young ladies are interested in such things, and are more than susceptible to a subtle compliment now and again. When I was there, the subject was instructed by a very appealing young witch named Tabitha Middlebrow. She'll be long gone by now, but in her day…"

"For goodness' sake, Gregory, shut up." Melody interrupted. "The boy has done an excellent job of having a lot more common sense than you so far, and I had hoped it would stay that way."

"Now, now," Edith said gently. "Let's not argue on young Harry's birthday, shall we?"

"Ah yes," mumbled Aldous sleepily. "Birthday, is it? How old? Fifty? Seventy-three?"

"Thirteen," Harry laughed.

"Harry birthday, young man," Abram said indulgently.

"Thank you." Harry smiled at them all.

"Harry!" Harry's head jerked up.

"Was that my mum?" he asked wonderingly. "What could she want?" He stuck his head out the library door. "Is someone calling me?" he yelled.

"Yes! Come down here!" Entirely mystified, he bid the portraits good morning and went downstairs. His mother waited on the lower landing, fists on hips. "Were you that deeply asleep? I've been calling for ten minutes. Come on to the kitchen. Tom just got his Hogwarts letter!"

"Oh, is that all? I thought something important had happened." He said it softly, but Lily heard and pursed her lips. He followed her through the dining hall and into the kitchen, where the rest of his family had just eaten breakfast.  
"Good morning, sleepyhead," James said cheerfully as he came it. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Your little brother just got his very first Hogwarts letter." Tom thrust it proudly in Harry's face as testimony. Tom Potter was two years Harry's junior, and shorter by a good bit. He wore glasses over hazel eyes that matched James', but his hair was Lily's reddish-auburn. And extending from above his right brow, down the side of his cheek, and ending just short of his chin, was his famed crescent scar, the only remainder of Lord Voldemort's attempt on his life. It had faded to a shiny white-ish colour over the years, but it was still a symbol of hope to the wizarding world.

"Nice form letter." Harry crossed the room and began helping Tipsy with the dishes. The little house-elf beamed up at him as he took a dish rag.

"We thought it would be nice to take a family trip to Diagon Alley," Lily continued. "We can all be there when Tom gets his books and robes and things."

"And my wand, Mum!" Tom cut in. He mimed big sweeping motions with his arm, making whooshing noises.  
"That's right, and your wand, dear. And just think: you'll get your key to your very own trust vault! It's an old family tradition for a Potter child to get the key to his trust vault when he turns eleven. You'll have money to do your own shopping from now on. You'll barely need us anymore!"

'If he was really that independent, he'd get his stupid key on his own like I did,' Harry thought, staring at the plate he was drying. "I actually had plans for today," he said, not looking at them. "I was going to meet some friends."

"Oh…. Okay, where?" Lily sounded a little put out.

"Diagon Alley," he admitted reluctantly.

"Well, that's no problem then. Your friends can come with us." That settled the problem to her satisfaction, and Harry thought it better not to argue the point. They'd lose track of him as soon as Tom became interested in something.

They left the house by the Floo Network about an hour later, each stepping smartly into the green fire and pronouncing "The Leaky Cauldron," as he or she spun away. Harry was the last to go. A last-minute inventory of his pockets revealed three Sickles and nine Knuts, a bent old quill, a scrubby bit of parchment, and a tiny gold key. Good. All set.

"Bye Tipsy!" he called, stepping into the flames. "The Leaky Cauldron." Spinning, spinning, getting dizzy, and out of the smoky fireplace of the wizarding inn, his family arrayed around him, mostly engaged is patting all the soot out of their robes.

"Hello, Tom," he called to the barkeep. The old man looked up and waved. Harry's brother looked up at him too, puzzled, and then miffed when he saw Harry wasn't talking to him.

"Will you be here this Wednesday, Harry? The new Muggle-borns are due in then, and you and Tracey were splendid ambassadors last year," the grizzled old man said hopefully.

"Count on it. I'm seeing Tracey later, so I'll remind her then."

The barkeep nodded his thanks. Harry turned back to his family.

"What was all that about?" Lily asked.

"Tracey and I are going to help Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall show the new Muggle-born or –raised kids and their families around Diagon Alley. I did it last year."

"Oh." Lily clearly didn't know how to react to this information. "Is Tracey your girlfriend then?"

"Mum! No!"

"I was just asking: no need to bite my head off."

"Well, she's not. I don't have a girlfriend."

A slight pause.

"So, where to first?" James asked jovially.

"Gringotts!" Tom cried jubilantly.

"Right you are! Are you sure you're ready to become a proper Potter?"

Tom nodded firmly. "I'm ready for anything." Harry winced at the melodrama.

They went out the back door into the tiny courtyard stuffed full of dustbins, where James counted out the bricks and the wall portal opened, welcoming them to Diagon Alley. Tom led the way out into the crowd, chest puffed out like a strutting peacock, their parents at each of his shoulders, with Harry straggling behind. It was only nine fifteen, and he wasn't supposed to meet his friends until ten o' clock, but he couldn't help looking for them hopefully. People called out to James and Lily as they progressed up the street, and several people wanted to shake Tom's hand, which he did with enthusiasm.

He only paused when they were outside of Gringotts' imposing façade, clearly rather cowed. Harry recognized the feeling. Lily urged him forward with a light touch on his shoulder, and he marched on in, head ducked.

"I'm Tom Potter," he announced to the goblin behind the counter, "and I'm eleven." Harry mentally rolled his eyes, fully anticipating the goblin's response.

"Congratulations." He didn't even look up from the ruby he was examining.

"Well! That is. I mean – er. Um." Tom floundered.

"We're here to collect the key to my son's trust vault," James cut in smoothly.

The goblin looked up grudgingly. "Identification?"

James proffered his wand, and Harry watched with interest as the goblin gave it a thorough going-over. "Very well, this seems to be in order. If you'll just follow me…" He slid off his stool and landed with a bump on the marble floor.

He trotted along behind the counter, the Potters (sans Harry) hurrying to parallel him on the other side. They disappeared into one of the many doors off the foyer as a tight little clump, the door closing shut behind them. Harry remained at the counter, sourly amused by the accuracy of his earlier prediction.

Turning to face the next goblin along the counter, he said, "Good morning, sir." He proffered his key. "I would be very appreciative if you could lend me your services long enough for me to collect some money from this account." During their studies with Master Jerome, he, Roderick, and Delf had learned that a little over-formality with goblins could garner a lot of good-will. Goblins were not necessarily vain, but they had many irrefutably important skills, and appreciated being acknowledged for them.

Case in point, this goblin didn't even glare when he looked up from the large stack of Muggle coins he was sorting to examine Harry's key.

"Of course, Mr. Potter,"

Harry had quite gotten over his original fear of the journey down through the Gringotts vaults. His first trip had been quite terrifying, true, but the trip last year hadn't been half so bad, and this time around he found he nearly enjoyed it.

At his vault, he gathered fifty Galleons, twenty Sickles, and fifteen Knuts. It would be plenty to get him through shopping and the train's candy trolley. Plus, there would be quite a bit left over for his trips to Hogsmeade that year. Especially if he bought his robes second-hand. He had grown a lot over the summer, but he doubted he was about to stop, so there was no sense in spending all that money for new robes he'd grow out of in six months anyway. On the ride back up, he inquired politely about the Muggle/wizard exchange rate and what the tunnels had been before the goblins converted them to house the bank. The goblin was not strictly verbose, but he was not witheringly sarcastic as some were.

Back up in the entrance hall, Harry immediately spotted a well-known and enormous form striding away from him towards the exit.  
"Hagrid!" he yelled, eliciting several dirty looks from nearby patrons and bankers alike.

Hagrid's movements were pendulous, giving Harry plenty of time to catch up to him, and his face split open in a grin as huge as the rest of him when he saw who had called for him. "HARRY!" he bellowed, causing one young witch to nearly jump out of her skin in fright.

"Sirs," said a querulous old goblin loudly. "You're disturbing the other clients. I must ask you to take your rather noisy conversation out of doors."

"Of course. Sorry sir," Harry apologized, not really meaning it. He grabbed Hagrid's sleeve and pulled him outside, as a tug-boat tows an ocean-liner.

"Hagrid, it's great to see you! I've never seen you off Hogwarts grounds. And I didn't know you had a vault at Gringotts."

"Ah, well, y'see, I haven't, Harry. I'm on secret Hogwarts business fer Dumbledore." The groundskeeper puffed his impressive self up and patted his chest. Or, Harry suspected, one of his innumerable pockets that held the spoils of said secret mission. They must be small spoils, despite the impressive size of some of Hagrid's pockets.

"Good for you, Hagrid. Are you keeping everything in shape at school?"

"Yeh could say that. I've been plowin' up the pumpkin patch. They're gonna be amazin' this year!"

Harry grinned. "That's great. I can't wait to see them. But you know, I promised Delf and Roderick I'd meet them pretty soon –"

"A course, a course. Go meet yer friends. See yer at school, Harry!"

"Right. See you Hagrid."

Harry was barely ten meters away before Hagrid called after him, "Harry! Blimey, I near forgot!"

Harry turned around. "Forgot what?" he called.

"Why, yer birthday! I even got a present for ya, just a'fore I came here."

"Oh, Hagrid, thanks, but you really don't have to –"

"Too late fer that! It'll be waitin' for ya when yer get home." Hagrid winked broadly and turned to walk the other way, whistling loudly.

"Just remembering is enough," Harry murmured.

It was a quick walk to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, where he had agreed to meet his friends. Delf was already sitting at a table outside, spooning up the remains of a chocolate sundae.

"You're here early," he noted by way of greeting. She looked up, startled, and he watched as her eyes settled from their dark-green of surprise to a more neutral goldy-brown colour. He was really quite indebted to her eyes. It was nearly impossible to tell what mood she was in without them.

"Yeah, I know," she agreed, gesturing for him to sit down with her. "My parents were in a wicked temper over something my brother did this morning, and I figured I'd just as rather be here by myself than there with them."

Harry nodded, fully sympathizing with the sentiment of wanting to avoid one's parents.

Delf had changed very little in the two years since his eleventh birthday. She remained scrawny and thin. It was true she was taller now, but not by much. Her hair was longer and a little bit darker, and slightly better groomed than it had been before. But otherwise, she was the same old Delf.

Just then, Roderick came striding up towards them from the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. He had grown in the two years as well, maintained a steady one-inch lead over Harry, which Harry found endlessly annoying. He wore his white-blond hair loose over his forehead, falling in grey eyes that were, currently, quite angry.

"I can't believe my father!" he cried as soon as he was near enough to them to be heard. The other two waited till he was a little closer before responding to save from having to shout.

"Oh?" Harry prompted.

His friend thumped down in a seat next to him. "He's going so overboard on this 'infiltrate the Potters' business. I told you how he wanted me to be friends with you when we were all seven anyway, but even now when we're properly friends, he wants to know everything you do, everything your parents do, everything your brother does. It's stark raving bonkers! You know he wanted me to lay a Listening Charm in your house last summer? As if I even knew how to do that, and as if we ever go to your house. I just want to hex things when I'm with him too long." He buried his face in his hands, the picture of impotent teenage fury.

Delf patted his shoulder sympathetically. "We're all having a touch of trouble with our parents today, I think." Harry didn't point out that he hadn't shared anything of the sort. It was a sort of given these days that he and his parents didn't get on. It wasn't so much that they didn't see eye-to-eye: more like they were facing totally different directions.

"So, what say we go find Sirius, yeah? He's footing the bill for today's little outing."

"Oh, yeah, happy birthday!" Roderick exclaimed, raising his head from his hands.

"Right, happy birthday, Harry! I could have sworn I said that already. Do you know sometimes how you think really hard about doing or saying something, and then can't remember if you really did it?" Harry blinked at her a couple times. "Well, it was like that," she muttered, deflated.

So they sauntered off down the Alley together, and in short order found Harry's uncle/god-father, Sirius Black, awaiting them outside of a tiny little shop off the main drag of the Alley proper. The signboard above the door pronounced it to be Bigby's Magical Tattoo Application Parlour.

"So what are you actually getting done?" Delf asked as Harry waved a hello to his uncle.

"You'll see," Harry said, smiling.

"Hello, Harry. Happy birthday." Sirius reached out and gave his godson a one-armed hug. "How's the day going?"

Harry grimaced, thinking of his parents. "About as well as I expected."

"Ah…" Sirius rumpled his hair affectionately, as if to say 'that's alright: we're not gonna worry about them for a while'. "So! Are you ready to meet my friend Mr Bigby? He's done quite a bit of work on me over the years, you know, and he's the only one I'd go to for a job like this."

"So does everyone know what Harry's getting except for me?" Delf demanded as they squished into the tiny reception area of the shop.

"Yes," said Roderick nonchalantly.

"You don't know, you dirty liar!" Harry exclaimed just as Delf burst out "That's not fair!" They all glanced at each other for a second, then laughed.

Sirius chuckled with them, the addressed the girl sitting behind the counter. She was blond, skinny, wearing an ill-fitting shirt with long sleeves and a high neck, despite the summer warmth. Harry had seen her at Hogwarts: she was a Gryffindor, a year above him and Roderick and Delf. She had no particular reputation, as far as Harry knew, though he remembered the Weasley twins once talking about how she'd broken another student's nose and gotten off without detention. "Nita, is it?" Sirius asked in a friendly way, and the girl nodded without changing expression. "Bigby back there, by any chance?"

"He's out," Nita answered. "But he knew you were coming, so he'll be back soon."

"Ah, good. Out courting again, is he?" Sirius sounded vastly amused.

Nita shrugged, but her lips twitched just a bit.

Harry and the rest spent a few minutes examining all of the artwork that decorated the walls of the tiny space, everything from delicate tiny ink drawings to sprawling watercolor illustrations that wouldn't have fit on the back of a giant. But soon there was the sound of a door opening and closing from the back area of the shop, and Nita slid off her chair and disappeared into the back. Indistinct speaking, and then the elderly purple velvet curtain behind the counter shivered and a man appeared from behind it.

Maybe Harry shouldn't have made this assumption, but he had expected someone called Bigby to be, well… big. Bigby wasn't big. Bigby was small. Bigby was small and bald and scarily muscled. And every inch of his skin was covered in writhing, undulating, moving wizard tattoos. Harry was flabbergasted, and Delf and Roderick were equally stunned.

"Bigs, I want you to meet my godson, Harry, and his friends Daphne and Roderick. You three, this is my good friend Randolph Bigby."

"Pleasure." Bigby's voice was gravelly, but comforting because it definitely suited him, unlike his name. "Who'm I working on?"

Harry shook himself. "Me, sir."

"Bigby, not sir. Got a picture?"

"Yessir, uh – Bigby. Right here." He pulled the rumpled piece of parchment out of his pocket and handed it to him. Bigby unfolded it carefully, and Delf and Roderick leaned in, trying to be unobtrusive but still get a good look.

"Isn't that—?" Roderick got no further:

"No way!" Delf exclaimed. "Please tell me you haven't kept that stupid doodle all this time!"

"You draw this?" Bigby asked, turning the page around for them to see properly. Etched onto the surface in black ink and grey graphite was a very well executed Hungarian Horntail. Delf had gotten bored in Charms one day at the end of the previous year and spent the whole class drawing it on the flip-side of her unfinished revision notes. Harry had snagged it before she threw it away, and the other two had made fun of him for it, suggesting he get it framed. That was the seed of what had led to his idea of the tattoo. Framing it made it permanent, but a tattoo was about a hundred times that. And it really was very well done.

"You're actually going to tattoo this thing onto your body? Permanently? You're going barmy!"

"You were going to throw it away, remember? I took it, so now I'm going to do what I want with it, which is to get it tattooed on myself. I would have thought you'd be flattered." There were times when Delf's eyes could be as confusing as the rest of her: her happy color was gold, but her super angry color was orange, and they two could look uncomfortably similar in some cases. Like this one, for instance.

Fortunately, she subsided into incoherent mumblings rather quickly, and gave no more trouble as the process began.

Bigby took them all into the back room, which was only slightly less of a squeeze than the reception area. Harry took off his robes and shirt and sat on a low stool in the middle of the floor, while Bigby took up a chair behind him. Roderick and Sirius watched eagerly, Sirius with the added layer of pride. Delf, however, had averted her eyes and blushed quite heavily.

"Delf, don't you want to watch? There's no blood or anything. I mean, right?" Harry added, glancing worriedly at Sirius, who laughed.

"No blood," he confirmed.

Harry craned his neck around to see what Bigby was doing, and saw, out of the corner of his eye, the image of the Horntail spread over the man's knee, his wand making infinitesimal movements over the parchment. Then, the dragon began to twitch and vibrate on the page, flexing a talon here, uncurling its tongue there. It was coming alive! The wand's movements continued, and the image's movement became more and more apparent in response. Then, as it looked like it was about to writhe right off the parchment, Bigby picked it up and slapped it on Harry's left shoulder, jabbing it with his wand as he did so. Harry jumped like he's been struck with a mild Shock Jinx, and shuddered all over.

There was the sound of paper crunching behind him, and he spun around, saying, "No, I wanted to keep that!" until he saw that the page was blank. The Horntail was gone. Cautiously, he peered over his shoulder. Something black slid across his shoulder blade, but that was all he could see.

"Turn around," Bigby instructed, and Harry obediently faced him. With the air of a doctor giving a routine check-up, the tattoo artist tapped Harry's shoulder. Mystified, Harry glanced down to see that the dragon had responded to the touch! It was circling the place with Bigby's finger had made contact, snarling and biting at nothing.

"That… is… wicked." Roderick breathed.

Sirius nodded approvingly. "Right you are, cousin."

"Well, Delf? Did I put your doodle to good use?" He faced her, grinning, as his dragon established its territory: from what he could see, his shoulder, upper arm and the upper-left-hand quarter of his back seemed to be its domain.

She nodded, totally dumbstruck.

"Oooo, I think Delf wants one!" Roderick hooted with laughter. This was enough to snap her out of it, and she glared at each of them in turn. Her eyes were pure gold though, so they knew they were safe.

Sirius paid Bigby three Galleons for his services, and they left the shop in high good humor. Harry was tempted to leave his shirt off, but Roderick gave him the helpful reminder that Lily and James would be out there somewhere with Tom, so Harry had to succumb to being fully clothed. Delf kept poking him on the shoulder and asking if it tickled when it moved, which he answered with a 'no', all dozen times she did it.

They decided to work their way up the Alley, doing their shopping as they came across each store. Sirius mysteriously remembered an errand he had to run when the words 'school shopping' came up, so they said cordial goodbyes and moved off in different directions. Harry called his thanks back several times as they got further and further away, making Sirius and Roderick both laugh extremely hard as his volume increased to cover the distance. Their similar senses of humor certainly illustrated their shared blood, though you'd have to go back a couple generations to find a common ancestor.

Madam Malkin's was the first shop they came to, and Harry and Roderick groaned in unison as they stepped through the door: facing off at the back of the shop, each perched on his own stool and swathed in too-long Hogwarts robes, were Tom Potter and Draco Malfoy. Each appeared to be about to jump the gap and throttle the other, even as Madam Malkin and her assistant attempted to pin the boys' robes up.

Tom and Draco knew each other, of course. They had met the same way Harry and Roderick and Delf all had: at the annual Crescent Remembrance Day Gala the Ministry hosted every year on Halloween to honor Tom's victory over the Dark Lord. Most of the old pureblood families attended, including the Malfoys, and the two younger sons had clearly been the ones to inherit the long-standing grudge.

"Yeah, well, your hair looks stupid like that!" Tom yelled.

"At least I don't look like a girl! Everyone always says you're the spitting image of your mum."

"Tom does look a lot like Mum," Harry agreed, but only so that his friends could hear him.

"Your dad looks like a girl!" Tom shot back.

"My dad does look sort of like a girl," Roderick conceded quietly. "It's his hair."

"You take that back!" Draco screamed.

It appeared that they had managed to keep the conversation civil. Not.

"Where are your parents?" Delf whispered. They were crouching behind a rack of musty dress-robes, watching the developing scene.

"Who knows?"

"Who cares?" Harry corrected him.

"Right you are. They're probably doing the 'boring' bits of shopping, like books and potions ingredients and such."

"That's not boring!" Delf protested.

"I know that, but it doesn't look like Tom and my brother do."

Delf shook her head and their astounding ignorance.

"Quick, let's just get our robes and go before either of our parents show up," Harry murmured.

"There're only two fitting stations," Roderick pointed out.

Harry quickly explained about getting his robes second-hand this year to conserve money for Hogsmeade visits, a reasoning of which Roderick heartily approved and had joined in on in no time. Delf was getting hand-me-downs from an older cousin and didn't have to get anything for herself. Harry and Roderick selected robes that were a bit too long for them, anticipating growing room. Harry had to suspect that Roderick chose a rather careworn set just to stick it to his dad. They covertly flagged the long-suffering assistant down, paid for the clothing and left hastily, as the volume of the argument rose to truly dangerous levels.

They hurried next door to into Flourish and Blotts and… groaned yet again.

"MY SON DOES NOT LOOK LIKE A VEELA!" Lucious Malfoy roared into the face of a livid James Potter.

"WELL, MY SON IS NOT A WITCH!"

"The sad part is, I'm not even surprised," Roderick sighed. Harry shook his head in sad agreement.

"YOUR SON LOOKS SO MUCH LIKE YOUR WIFE THAT SHE PROBABLY LAY WITH HER BROTHER TO BEGET HIM!"

"SHE DOESN'T EVEN HAVE A BROTHER, YOU DIMWITTED TOADSTOOL!"

"TOADSTOOL!? WELL—"

Creeping around the bellowing wizards took a certain degree of skill, but they managed to leave the shop each toting a complete set of third-year class books, plus those they needed for their extra classes. None of them could hear quite right, but there was no permanent damage done. Harry and Roderick had designated the duty of breaking the fight up to their mothers, should they ever find them.

A quick stop in on the apothecary took care of their school requirements, so they just wandered around for a while. A large crowd around The Broomstick Experts eventually attracted them, where bits of the hubbub eventually formed themselves into the story that the Nimbus 2000 had just come out for sale, and anyone with enough sense and enough gold was snatching one up as fast as they could. A group of brand new students was at the front of the crowd, bewailing their misfortune at not being allowed their own brooms. Harry could barely see the object of everyone's adoration, but just then, he spied Sirius step out of the door and begin fighting his way through the throng.

"Sirius!" he shouted, waving his arms above his head. "Over here!" Sirius spied them and squeezed out of the crowd. Only then did Harry notice the long, slim package he was holding. "You had to go and get yourself one, I see. Finally going to beat my dad in skirmish?" he grinned.

"Not quite," Sirius said, grinning back. "Happy birthday, Harry. May you keep winning every game you ever play." And he held the paper-wrapped broom out to his godson. Harry's mouth fell open.

"Sirius…. By Merlin's beard, thank you!" he breathed, taking the package in reverent hands.

"Don't unwrap it here," Sirius recommended. "You might get swamped with fans."

"Right. Good idea."

"How about we go back to the Leaky Cauldron?" Roderick suggested. "We're supposed to meet Tracey pretty soon."

Agreeing this was a smart course of action, they skirted the crowds and headed back down the Alley. They passed Draco and Mr Malfoy coming out of Ollivander's, and Harry heard a pair of disdainful sniffs as Roderick brushed past his father, as if to say 'Roderick is worth even less than his riff-raff friends'. He glanced worriedly at his friend, who was glaring furiously at the cobblestones.

"Ignore them," Delf implored, seeing his expression as well.

"I know," Roderick muttered. Sirius patted his shoulder.

Hoping to take Roderick's mind off everything, Harry unwrapped his new broomstick as soon as they were safely in the pub.

It worked: "Wow," was all Roderick could say. Even Delf, who knew comparatively little about brooms, and cared even less, agreed that it was beautiful. Harry was in awe. The broom – his broom – was sleek and streamlined and shiny, not a single twig out of place, not a single chip taken out of the handle. The wood was rosy and smooth and smelled lightly of beeswax and polish. It was gorgeous.

"I'm in love," Harry declared. Sirius and Roderick laughed, while Delf looked confused.

Just then, Tracey Davis arrived. She was their year, but in Slytherin, born of a wizard dad who had died in the Great War and a Muggle mum. Her hair was something between brown and blond, with mischievous blue eyes and a slim figure.

"Trace!" exclaimed Delf happily. "Finally, another girl. These two have been ogling Harry's new broom all day, it seems like."

"Ooo, what did you get?" Tracey inquired eagerly.

"Oh yeah, I forgot you're really into that too…" Delf sighed.

Tracey smiled, unfazed. "Happy birthday, Harry," she said warmly, sitting down next to Delf and across from Roderick. "This is amazing," she added, indicating the Nimbus on the table before them.

"Harry had just declared his undying love for it when you arrived," Roderick told her. She laughed delightedly.

"Okay, my mum is busy in the office for another hour or so, but then we're all set for late lunch in the city. And Mum can give you more contact lenses for this year, Harry. We're going back to Delf's place afterwards, aren't we?"

Delf nodded affirmation. "For gifts and stuff, yeah. Harry, you should try out your Nimbus when we get home. You're obviously dying to."

Harry grinned at her. "Yeah, you know me well enough to see that."

"Please. I know enough to see everything."

"Oooooo….." Roderick cat-called quietly, while Tracey spluttered with repressed laughter.

"What?" Delf asked, wounded. "What? It's true."

"Don't mind them," Sirius said comfortingly. "They're just too mature for their own good. I know what you meant."

"Oh, Trace, Tom says the Muggle-borns are coming in Wednesday, so we should be there a little early. That alright with you?"

"Absolutely." Harry and Tracey had begun the show-the-Muggle-borns-around thing pretty much by accident the previous summer when they both happened to be at the Leaky Cauldron when Professors Flitwick and McGonagall were to meet them all. This was also the root of their friendship, since after that they had hung out together at Hogwarts when they had classes together and he had introduced her to Delf and Roderick.

Remus arrived shortly thereafter, which meant that they could all leave for Muggle London. The idea had come up mid-way through the previous year, when Roderick expressed an interest in taking Muggle Studies as a supplementary class in third year (which he was doing). Tracey had suggested she show them around London that summer, since she had been raised in the Muggle world and could give them a pretty decent tour. It turned out the only time they were all free was around the end of July, so Muggle-London and Harry's birthday had somehow gotten a little tangled. Harry didn't mind though. He liked doing things for birthday.

They took the Underground to the station closest to Tracey's mum's work, and walked five blocks to her office. Roderick, Delf, and Harry exclaimed non-stop over every fascinating Muggle invention they saw, eliciting no end of laughter and rather haphazard explanations from Tracey. Those tall things were called 'sky scrapers'. Those large moving things were 'lorries'. Those red boxes were 'telephone booths'. Pretty much everything ran on 'electricity'. They got some very strange looks: walking down what – to a Muggle – was a perfectly normal street only to see these six oddly dressed people with their bizarre packages must have been rather strange. Roderick was particularly fascinated, and rather monopolized Tracey's attention. Harry smiled and rolled his eyes. Roderick was so obvious.

Mrs Davis was a Muggle optician, which is like a Healer but only for eyes. Harry had met her once before during last summer when Tracey had taken him to get contact lenses, which are like tiny lenses for glasses, only they go right on your eyeballs. She had darker hair than her daughter, a nice smile, and freckles where Tracey had none.

"Hello, Harry," she said with the same warmth her daughter had expressed earlier. Harry had decided after meeting Mrs Davis the first time that they were simply a really nice pair of people. Harry was given a brief eye exam and a refill on his contact lens prescription, which she promised to have Tracey owl to him as soon as they came in. The rest of the group except Tracey wandered around the office, gawping at all the funny Muggle artifacts. The pictures that didn't move; something bulky called a 'computer' at the receptionist's desk (it was a good thing said receptionist was out to lunch, or she'd have been very distressed); the newspapers advertising Waitrose's newest sale on tinned pumpkin ("How would a whole pumpkin fit in a tin?" Delf wondered. Remus suggested it might be a very big can, which made sense. Tracey laughed and wouldn't explain why).

Afterwards, Mrs Davis left a note for her receptionist and they all stepped out into Muggle London again. Tracey explained that they had made a reservation at a very classy restaurant that was, coincidentally, right around the corner. Harry stammered his thanks, protesting that they shouldn't have gone to such trouble for him. Delf wished she had been warned so that she could have dressed for the occasion. Roderick asked what that would be: her mum's fancy dress robes? She scowled at him.

They rounded the corner and were suddenly face to face with a large, glass-fronted building with imposing yellow letters reading "MCDONALDS" over the entrance. There was a life-size image of a man in a red and yellow jumpsuit with enormous shoes and really puffy hair by the entrance. Roderick and Sirius glanced at it dubiously as they went in, still not trusting it not to move, even though it was a Muggle artifact. Harry looked around interestedly as he entered the building. Tables were scattered around the room, under the sort of lighting that Tracey had called "electrical". What was wrong with fire, at least, since they couldn't use magic? Harry wondered.

Mrs Davis went up to the young curious-looking Muggle behind the counter and said politely "We'd like seven Big Macs with drinks and chips please."

"What's a 'Big Mac'?" Roderick asked quietly. Harry shrugged.

"What's a 'chips'?" Delf whispered. The boys shrugged. Tracey seemed to be strangling on laughter at their confusion.

They took a table by the front window, Tracey and her mother perfectly comfortable in their surroundings, the other five distinctly not. Harry was acutely aware that this was considered very high-end in the Muggle world, and didn't want to show his hosts up by being uncouth.

"Davis party: seven Big Macs?" the Muggle girl's voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. Delf, Harry and Roderick sat bolt upright with surprise. Tracey was laughing so hard she nearly couldn't speak, and tears poured freely down her face. Harry was glad at least someone was enjoying themselves.

"That was the loudspeaker system," she gasped. "You speak into the microphone at the counter and your voice goes through the wires to the speakers."

"That makes no sense," Delf said primly. "She should just use a Voice Amplification Charm."

"We're in Muggle London," Remus said in soft warning tones. Delf subsided, but looked no more pleased than before.

Mrs Davis brought the laden tray from the counter and passed the stiff paper boxes around. Harry popped his open and peered within. A hat of bread, topping layers of vegetables, a slice of greasy meat, and another layer of bread at the bottom. If this was fancy Muggle food, what must they eat normally? No wonder Muggle-borns were always so astounded when they got to Hogwarts. The Feast must be their first ever proper meal.

"Chips" turned out to be potatoes sliced into thin rectangles and boiled in oil of some kind with a lot of salt on top. Sirius loved them. Roderick and Harry went up to the counter and asked for dining ware.

"What d'you need them for?" the Muggle girl asked around a large wad of bubblegum.

"To eat with," Roderick replied stiffly.

She shrugged. "Trolly's behind ye."

"They make you get your own forks and knives!" Roderick spluttered as they returned to the table, scandalized.

Tracey could hardly breathe from laughing so hard. "You… guys… are so… funny!" she finally managed to choke out.

Roderick frowned. "How do you mean?"

"I'm afraid, boys," Mrs Davis took over for her daughter, who was totally red in the face and could no longer speak for laughing. "We've been having a bit of a joke on you. This isn't really a high-end Muggle restaurant. McDonalds is what is called a fast-food chain. This whole meal cost barely twenty quid."

Harry thought back to his conversation with the goblin that morning (had it only been that morning?) and did some quick maths in his head. "Only three Galleons? That's amazing!" He tried to think of where he could get such a cheap meal in the wizarding world and came up blank.

"Well," said Delf sniffily. "Even so, the service is terrible."

They didn't stay long after that. Between the girl at the counter shooting them odd looks and Roderick sulking and Tracey not even being able to keep a straight face, they decided they were better off where Muggle eyes couldn't see them. Mrs Davis took leave of them when they passed her office. They took the Underground back to where they'd started off and walked to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Hey, Harry, you just missed your family," Tom called gruffly from behind the bar.

"Thank goodness," Harry muttered. They'd have made him go home with them and pay attention to his brother, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

One by one, they stepped into the large fire place, announcing 'Greengrass Manor' as they did so. After Harry's disastrous eleventh birthday party, Delf had insisted that they all go to her house for his parties. Though of course, his friends didn't know exactly how disastrous the party had been. His parents hadn't come home till nearly nine the morning after, but he'd told Delf and Roderick they'd been back only an hour after the other two had left. They were, naturally, furious for Harry's sake, as even that was much too long. But it was better by far than the truth.

The Greengrass' Floo Network fireplace was in their secondary sitting room, and as Harry appeared in it, Delf was just ushering her younger sister, Astoria, out of it, instructing her to find their mum or dad or whoever was home. The sisters resembled each other quite strongly: they each had dark brown, wavy hair, round faces ending with pointed chins, and the same brown eyes (when Delf was calm, at least). Astoria was three years younger than her sister, and would enter Hogwarts the following year.

Roderick, Sirius, Tracey and Remus appeared behind Harry, each accompanied by a burst of heat and green light. Harry felt himself shiver each time, and couldn't say why. By this point, Astoria was back, and reporting that her dad and little brother, Dwight, were out somewhere, but that their mum was home and would be down in a moment. In an eye-blink, Sirius had his suave, debonair persona on. It was a well-known fact that Sirius thought Delf's mum was smoking hot.

Harry had to admit she was, even though that was sort of weird. She was rather short, but REALLY curvy, with light brown hair to her waist and the same color eyes as her second daughter. Even in a checkered apron with her hair tied roughly up in a bun, Harry could see she was very pretty.

Sirius bowed low and kissed her hand. "My lady," he began. "your loveliness grows with every passing instant. Come, let us flee these dreary day to day trials like your beautiful children and affectionate husband and spend the rest of our days slightly intoxicated and fighting bitterly on some sunny beach somewhere." She laughed, perfectly aware that he was teasing.

"Hello, everyone," she said, looking past Sirius. "Happy birthday, Harry. Aren't your parents here?"

He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Um… They had to take Tom shopping. He got his Hogwarts letter today."

Mrs Greengrass frowned. "That's well and good, but shopping can be postponed a day, I should think.  
" Harry shrugged. "Hm. I suppose there's nothing we can do then. Daphne, I think now would be a good time to go fetch Harry's gifts from upstairs." Delf obediently ducked out, dragging Tracey with her. "Sit down, everyone, make yourselves comfortable. I'll have tea in if you'll give me a moment. Astoria, if you'd mind helping me?" The ten-year-old trotted out after her mum, leaving Harry, Roderick, Remus and Sirius to find themselves chairs.

"She laughed," Roderick said almost reverently to Sirius. "at those silly things you were saying. I thought you sounded mental, but she laughed."

Sirius smiled the smile of a master looking at his apprentice. "Of course she did. Every woman enjoys it when a man pokes fun at himself for her amusement. It's a fine art, but I have no doubt you two can master it given time." Harry and Roderick grinned at each other just as Delf and Tracey came back in, Delf bearing two medium-sized packages, and Tracey a bit of a larger one.

They put the boxes on the side table just as Mrs Greengrass and Astoria came back in carrying the tea service. Mrs Greengrass pulled a candle out of her apron pocket and stuck it in one of the crumpets on a plate by the teapot and lit it with a flick of her wand. They all sang him Happy Birthday and clapped afterwards and made him make a wish and blow out the candle. So he made a wish and blew it out, knowing that it would take a bit more than a candle flame to make that particular wish come true.

After that, they had tea and opened presents. From Sirius, of course, he had his dragon tattoo and new broomstick, which he thanked him for again. Mr and Mrs Greengrass got him a Complete Broom Care Kit, with brushes and clippers and polishes and everything. Roderick joked that it would come in handy next time he crashed into the goal-hoop posts during a Quidditch game, and Harry retorted that had only happened once because he was so focused on the Snitch. Roderick rolled his eyes. From Delf and Roderick together, there was the now-traditional silver frame for their Hogwarts letters, marks, and a group photo. Harry already had one hanging in his room, and knew his friends did as well. Delf gave him a scrapbook of the previous year (complete with a photo of the infamous goal-post crash – he had to admit it looked pretty funny when it wasn't happening to him right then). From Roderick there came a practice Snitch. As soon as he'd pulled the wrapping paper off, the little ball tried to sprout wings and fly away, so Harry quickly tucked it into his pocket. Roderick apologized for not getting something better, but his dad had docked his pocket money again, and it was the best he could do.

But Remus stole the show: he gave Harry a new Marauder's Map. Harry had discovered the Marauder's old notes in the library back at Potter Manor a year or so ago, and since then had been working on improving the original idea. He had given his blueprint to his uncle to finish, since he had been the one to lay most of the spells on it in his school days anyway, and had been promised he'd have it by his birthday. And here it was.

"Do the same words activate it?" he asked eagerly.

Remus nodded. "As requested."

Harry grinned. "I don't even know what I'll do with it first."

Roderick laughed. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

"I actually made two," Remus said. "They're exactly the same, but that whoever bears the Map I gave to you, Harry, will be invisible to this one." He held up the second. "I was hoping you could trade the twins our old one for this one. I'd like to have the original back, as a keepsake, you know."

"But what if I want it for a keepsake?" Sirius demanded.

"Then tough luck," Remus said severely. "If I give it to you, you'll get up to trouble somehow."

"But that's the point of it!"

"Harry, give it to me," Remus said firmly.

Harry nodded, grinning. "Sure. I'll send it back to you as soon as I can get the twins to stand still in the same place for ten seconds."

Remus nodded as well. "Deal." Sirius looked as if he'd just found his best friend in bed with his wife.

The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly. Mr Greengrass and Dwight arrived back from their errand, and the younger boy immediately began to pester his older sisters until Delf threatened to use a Tongue-Tie Hex on him if he didn't shut up, underage magic or not. Then Tracey and Delf began recounting their outing to Muggle London for Mr and Mrs Greengrass, paying particular attention to the parts that made Roderick or Harry look stupid. The boys were both sullen and pink by the end of the recitation. To cheer him up, Remus led Harry through the changes he had made in improving the Map, showing him, for example, that although the Room of Requirement was invisible even on such a map as the Map, he had taken particular care in marking the seventh floor corridor and the landmarks one must walk past to open the door. Harry was suitably impressed.

Everyone was in a good mood when it was time to leave, even Sirius, though he still shot Harry wounded looks whenever he thought Harry might be looking. Tracey left first, asking for the Leaky Cauldron since her house didn't have a Floo Network fireplace set up. Roderick went next, unhappily asking for Malfoy Manor. Then Harry went, thanking the Greengrasses warmly before he spun away to Potter Manor.

He could hear voices in the kitchen as he stepped out of the fireplace in the dining room. Dad's voice said something, then Tom interrupted, the Dad took over again, then Mum interjected something.

"—got me in and out of a lot of trouble during my time in school, and I hope you will have as many adventures with it," his dad was saying as Harry neared the open door. 'Did Remus give Dad a third Map without telling me?' Harry wondered. Then, coming around the corner, he saw what James had on the table between himself and his younger son: the Invisibility Cloak. The one Melody Peverell brought to the Potter line. The one that was supposed to go to the oldest son. To Harry.

Something twisted in Harry's gut, but before he could escape unnoticed, Tom called out, "Hey, it's Harry!"

His parents turned round, equal parts of surprise and anger on their faces.

"Harry!" James said crossly. "Where have you been all day?"

Before Harry could remind them that he had warned them of his plans, Lily added, "Today was meant to be a special family day, Harry. Tom got his Hogwarts letter and he was very upset when you weren't there to support him." Tom snorted and rolled his eyes, as if to say "yeah, right", but no one paid him any mind. "You're always doing this, Harry. Whenever Tom has a special occasion, you always slink off somewhere until it's over. It has to stop now, do you understand? We're a family, and we have to act like one."

Unable to stand the hypocrisy any longer, Harry interrupted: "May I ask what the date is?"

"July the –" Lily's face drained of all color. "Oh, god."

Harry nodded. "Before you go any further, I'd like to say I had an absolutely lovely birthday with the people who remembered it, even though they weren't family. I don't want your useless apologies. Good night."

He turned away and went upstairs to his room.

Sitting on his headboard, head under a snowy-white wing, was an owl. It had a letter gripped in one claw, which Harry gently extracted.

Dear Harry, he read.  
Happy birthday.  
Her name is Hedwig.  
\- Hagrid

Harry sank down onto his bed and fought tears. It would take so much more than a candle for this wish to come true.

-o-

That Wednesday, Harry and Tracey met at the Three Broomsticks at ten for late breakfast. Leaving Potter Manor had been easy, as James and Lily were reluctant to gainsay any of his plans after forgetting his birthday earlier in the week. They shared companionable silence for a while, until a commotion at the door announced the arrival of Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and a wide-eyed group of Muggle-born kids and their parents.

"…charm so that once you have entered the building for the first time holding your child's hand, you may do so again at any time, with or without them," McGonagall was saying as she led the way in.

"Ah! Potter! Davis! Lovely to see you," Professor Flitwick interrupted. McGonagall looked up hopefully. Harry and Tracey slid off their tall bar stools (where they technically weren't supposed to sit due to their age) and went over to the group, smiling.

"Please allow me to introduce two of our current students, Harry Potter of Ravenclaw and Tracey Davis of Slytherin, who will be going into their third year. Are you two our ambassadors again this year?"

"Yes, professor," Harry said politely. "Here to greet and meet the Muggle-borns. Hello, everyone. Tracey and I are going to help show you around today."

"And I'm Muggle-born too, so I know how overwhelming all of this can be," Tracey added. "Please ask us any questions you have. What are all of your names?"

Harry, who wasn't very good with names, retained only a few of the ensuing list: a small boy called Terry; a chubby girl called Hannah; a boy called Thomas Dean, or Dean Thomas, he got it mixed up immediately; a girl with frizzy hair and big teeth named Hermione who was particularly attentive. Other than that, they might as well not have had names.

"Good, good," McGonagall said impatiently. "Now let's go have a quick tour of the Ally."

She led the way at a quick pace, and soon had the portal open and was stepping through into the Ally proper.

"Now, you two," she said to Harry and Tracey, quick to foist off responsibility. "From your point of view as students, give a quick synopsis of the Ally."

The glance Tracey and Harry shared said 'we had better get extra credit for this', but Harry launched right into it.

"So, the first place you should always go is Gringotts, which is the bank. You'll be able to exchange money there because wizards have a different currency, which I'll explain in a bit. The first thing you should know about Gringotts is that it's run by goblins, so just be aware of that going in. Also, goblins appreciate manners. Be extremely polite when dealing with them. Now, if you want, you can open an account with Gringotts, or you can just exchange money every year. It's up to you, but setting up a vault can be a little time consuming, so if you want to do that, you may want to come back a different day. The Gringotts building as it stands now was built about four centuries ago, though it was a functioning bank for centuries before that." Harry mentally thanked Delf. He had no talent for or interest in history of any kind, but Delf thought it was all fascinating (except for what Professor Binns droned on about), and she often spoke at length about any number of random subjects. Gringotts had been a recent topic, so Harry was essentially regurgitating her spiel. "Gringotts stands atop an extensive network of natural caves, which is where the vaults are located. About a thousand years ago, the goblins discovered these, and began enlarging them to house the bank."

"There's not going to be an exam on this," Tracey cut in, and Harry noticed with some amusement that the bushy haired girl was taking notes. He privately welcomed the newest Ravenclaw.

By then they were at the top of the Ally, standing on the steps of Gringotts itself. The professors took over again at this point, escorting small groups of students and their parents in to do the necessary transactions. The whole thing took about half an hour, and then they were back off down the Ally, bouncing between Places of Interest (such as Florean Fortescue's and Gambol and Japes) and the stores they actually had to go to for supplies. Harry may have gotten a little carried away explaining Quidditch when they passed The Broomstick Experts, but he blamed Tracey for egging him on and telling everyone he was on the House team (Flitwick puffed up proudly at this revelation). At Madam Malkin's, Harry and Tracey collaborated on explaining the Houses, and how after you were put in one, you could get scarves and mittens and sweaters and such things in your House colours, but everyone wore the same uniform, so there was no difficulty there.

"People tend to assume that being sorted into one House over another will automatically dictate what kind of person you are, and that's just not true," Tracey explained as Terry and Lisa took their turn on the fitting stations. "We've had twins be split up to different ones, and I still sometimes forget who went to which. All a House really is, is where you'll be most likely to find people you get along with."

"That's not to say it's impossible to make friends outside of your House," Harry cut in. "If Tracey or I paid any attention to House prejudices, we wouldn't be friends at all, yet we are. Your House is really like your family when you're at Hogwarts, and there's all the drama and tension that can often be related to that." While Harry knew this was true in some cases, no drama he had ever experienced at Hogwarts measured up to that which went on at home.

"There are four Houses," Tracey continued. "Ravenclaw, which Harry's in and Professor Flitwick is Head of, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, which I'm in, and Gryffindor, which Professor McGonagall is Head of. It's true that there are certain characteristics that seem to belong to each House. Slytherins are known to be a little proud, and we're also very wily; Ravenclaws tend to be particularly studious; Hufflepuffs keep more to themselves and are very loyal to one another; Gryffindors are the 'loud and proud' sort, if you'll agree, Professor McGonagall." The tall witch nodded assent.

"Though even if you feel like you'd fit into one of the categories we've just outlined, the Sorting process is much more subtle, and you may find yourself surprised," Harry added. This was true for both him and Tracey, though in different ways.

Ollivander's took a while, of course. Harry and Tracey took turns escorting people to the apothecary's and the book shop once they had their wands. The parents generally seemed to like Tracey, so Harry spent the time entertaining their kids, and passing on tips and informal rules that would help them integrate into Hogwarts. Afterwards, McGonagall and Flitwick gave their closing comments, saying they looked forward to seeing the new students at school in a month's time. Once everyone had wandered off either to explore or go home, McGonagall and Flitwick turned to Harry and Tracey.

"Now," McGonagall began. "As our thanks for you doing this, fifteen points will be awarded to each of your Houses at the start of term."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. They were actually being rewarded?

"Thank you, Professor," Tracey said, obviously as surprised as Harry.

"And as for right now," Professor Flitwick added, digging in his belt pouch, "get yourselves an ice cream." He handed them each a Galleon.

"Wow!" Tracey exclaimed. "That's a giant ice cream!"

"Thank you very much," Harry said, amazed at the unsolicited display of generosity.

The two students and the two professors parted ways on very good terms shortly after, and Harry and Tracey followed Flitwick's suggestion and headed off to Florean's.

"You know," Tracey said, spooning up the dregs of a large strawberry sundae, "you said something earlier that I rather liked: greet and meet the Muggle-borns. We should give this a proper name, you know? Even just unofficially."

"Yeah," Harry agreed around a mouthful of tooth-achingly cold chocolate ice cream. "Greet and meet the Muggle-borns… Bit of a mouthful though, yeah?"

"Yeah… 'Muggle greeting'… 'Muggle meeting'… 'Muggle meet and greet'!"

"Nice!" Harry agreed. They congratulated themselves on a job well done.

-o-

The Sun rose bright and hot on August fifth, and found Harry happily situated in the apple orchard, meditating. He wanted to do an extra thorough meditation, since his first lesson of the year with Master Jerome would be later that morning. His friends at Hogwarts would have thought he, Roderick and Delf were weird for so eagerly anticipating lessons, but they had never met Jerome Leroy.

Tipsy had eggs and tea waiting for him when he came back in and plopped down at the table.

"Is Master Harry refreshed?" she inquired, perching across from him on a chair.

Harry grinned across at her earnest expression under the ever-crooked tiara. "Yes, thanks. It's beautiful out."

"And is Master Harry prepared for his lessons to start?"

"I think so," he replied around a mouthful of egg and toast. "I've meditated nearly every day, and I read the books he gave us. I just wonder where he went this year."

"You will find out soon enough, Master Harry," Tipsy reassured him.

He nodded agreeably and finished his breakfast. After helping her with the dishes, he went back upstairs, washed up, and settled in the library to pass the time before going to Delf's. After all, it was only 8.

"Good morning, Harry," Edith said pleasantly, lounging against her frame. "How are you today?"

"Fine, thanks," he replied, sitting down against the wall under the windows to face the five portraits.

"Ah-ha! It's Harry!" Gregory declared. "What's the word, my boy? Any girls of note?" he asked with a wide wink.

"Gregory, do shut up," Melody complained. "I truly can't believe I married one of your descendants. I should have stayed a Peverell."

"Come now, come now," Abram implored. "Let's not air the dirty laundry in front of the heir of the bloodline, shall we?" Abram's days as Head of Magical Law Enforcement mainly tended to display themselves as peacekeeping campaigns between his more tempestuous relatives.

"No, it's fine," Harry insisted. "It's important to know that there's real history to the Potters. If I'm going to inherit the legacy, I should understand it, right? You're all a part of that."

Aldous, the first recorded Potter, grunted appreciatively. "Someone did something right with you, lad." Harry flushed at the compliment and made a mental note to pass it on to Tipsy.

Two hours passed (relatively) peacefully. Melody and Gregory bickered incessantly while Abram tried unsuccessfully to stop them, Aldous fell asleep, Edith took up the book someone had been kind enough to paint her with, and Harry watched with quiet pleasure. The portraits were more his family than his mother or father or Tom. He certainly got along with them better, and they understood him.

At ten, he stood up and brushed himself off, said cordial goodbyes, and headed downstairs for the Floo fireplace.  
As he passed the door to the kitchen, he heard, "Harry!" It seemed his parents were awake.

"Morning," he said quickly, poking his head into the kitchen. James and Lily sat at the table, sipping coffee and reading the Prophet.

"Where are you off to so early?" Lily asked.

"I have tutoring at the Greengrass', with Master Jerome."

"Oh, yes, that starts today, does it? What are you learning this year?"

He figured they were paying for the lessons, so he should humor them, even though he could tell they weren't really interested. "Um, he mentioned continuing international politics, and the theory behind our third year classes."

"That's nice, sweetheart. Have a good time."

"Bye, Tipsy!" he called, and she waved as he ducked back out.

Requesting "Greengrass Manor" of the Floo Network sent him spinning around and around and around till he came to a stop facing the back of the fireplace in the Greengrass' secondary sitting room.

"Oh, good morning, Harry," he heard as he turned himself around and stepped clear of the mantle. Mr and Mrs Greengrass were sharing tea and the paper in a very similar fashion to his own parents, though they were wearing more than dressing gowns and pajamas.

"Good morning Mrs Greengrass. Good morning Mr Greengrass," he replied, patting soot off his trousers. "How are you?"

"We're well, thank you. Daphne has been in a tizzy of excitement all morning," Mrs Greengrass said mildly. "She's up in the library."

"Thank you. Is Roderick here yet?"

"Yes, he arrived twenty minutes ago in a bit of a temper. I worry for that boy sometimes."

Harry nodded in concerned agreement and hurried out across the hallway to the kitchen, where the stairs to the second storey were located. He turned left at the top of the stairs, and went through the open door at the end of the short passageway.

The Greengrass library had always impressed him: rows of shelves made a series of concentric L shapes, with a diagonal path from the door at the corner to a large table nestled into the crook by a set of large windows.

Roderick and Delf sat across from each other at the table; Roderick slumped dejectedly in his chair, Delf straight-backed and sympathetic with her hands folded in front of her.

"I hear someone's having a bad day," Harry said instead of announcing himself. His friends looked up, startled.

"Harry!" said Delf happily.

"Hey," said Roderick gloomily.

Ooh. This was bad. All semblance of good humor had fled, leaving his friend with nothing to linger on but his problems, and he had some serious problems. Harry's own irritation with his parents faded to a background buzz as he sat down between his friends.

"What is it?" he asked.

Roderick sighed, pushed himself back against his chair, rubbed his hands over his face. Didn't respond.

"His dad," Delf began quietly. "Roderick says their house elf got breakfast wrong somehow, and his dad made it put its foot in the fire. And when Roderick tried to stop him, his dad said to stop or he'd Imperious him to do the same thing."

Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. He had known Mr Malfoy was a royal breed of bastard, but he'd never thought him capable of something like that. Threatening to torture his son? Abusing a house elf? The thought of something similar happening to Tipsy had him sick to his stomach.

"That's disgusting," he managed.

"I know," she agreed.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each consumed by their own macabre thoughts.

"And he didn't do breakfast wrong," Roderick finally muttered. "He's a great elf, and my dad's an arse."

Harry sighed, sensing his friend's released tension, and Delf visibly relaxed. It spoke of the depth of their bond that a bad mood in one led to anxiety in all.

"So where do you think he went this year?" Roderick continued, referring, of course, to Master Jerome.

"It won't have been the US since he was there only a couple of years ago," Harry said thoughtfully.

"That still leaves a lot of possibilities," Delf replied dryly.

Harry shrugged. "Just saying."

"Remember last year when he spent ten months in Syberia? He came back looking properly Russian," Roderick put in, smiling at the memory of their diminutive tutor swaddled in a thick felt coat with a heavy black ushanka perched on his head. Their tutor had a rather strange habit of picking up whatever culture he visited and bringing it back with him when he returned to his home in the UK.

"And the year before that, when he went to Jamaica!" Delf added enthusiastically. "What was the word he used to describe himself that time?"

"Rastafarian," Harry replied, remembering the bright colours and exciting music.

"That was it," Roderick agreed. "And that time he had feathers attached to his hair. How long did it take for those to come out?"

"They were still in when lessons ended that year," Delf reminded him.

"And remember that time he lived as a Muggle for a year?" Harry put in eagerly. They had all found that more than a little strange.  
Mr Greengrass' voice interrupted their excited reminiscing: "…children are prepared for you in the library, as usual…"

Roderick, Delf and Harry all sat up and strained around in their seats for a glimpse of their tutor as he and Delf's parents emerged from between the rows of shelves. Jerome Leroy was French in birth and blood, but his parents had been the magical ambassadors to a number of countries in his youth, so he exhibited very little of his native land's heritage. He barely even had an accent, and he spoke nearly a dozen languages fluently. He was a small, bird-like man in his mid-fifties, with sparse grey hair and spectacles. Harry sometimes wondered what their parents all must think of their teacher's unorthodox habits, no matter his reputation as a leading instructor of young witches and wizards.

This year, his attire was especially exciting: he wore long, yellow, monkish robes, like a kimono, only a little less formal. He smiled indulgently at his students' excited expressions, and made all the correct polite comments to Delf's parents, who then left the library.

"The Philippines!" Roderick shouted just as Harry exclaimed "China!" and Delf guessed "Korea!", all of them tripping over each other to guess where their Master had spent the last ten months of the year from the hint of his clothing. He would never tell them where he was going, and they enjoyed guessing every year.

"Hello and nice to see you too," he replied with cheerful irony, pulling out the last chair and settling himself upon it. "You'll be happy to know you were in the right cultural sphere, at least. I was in Japan. And unfortunately I did not find a single clue about the Crumple-Horned Snorkack." Master Jerome had a weird thing about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, and spent a lot of time and energy researching and searching for them.

"Ahh…" they all said at once, sharing smiles and pleasurable anticipation for the stories and knowledge he would surely impart.  
"Now," Master Jerome began, sitting down primly at the table. "To get right down to it: this month we have a lot of ground to cover. You are all taking your supplemental third year classes, and—"

He was drowned out by the chorus of disappointment his students immediately raised.

"Come on…"

"…all month for that!"

"…cares about Divination anyway!"

"—Japan!"

"Yeah, tell us about Japan!"

Master Jerome smiled and made quieting gestures, and their complaints subsided.

"Since I was joking," he said. "I am not cross at your interruption." Harry, Delf and Roderick all looked at him expectantly, and he chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Alright!" he gave in. "This is what I did in Japan." His right hand reached into his loose left sleeve, and from its depths he pulled out a most unlikely object: a four foot long samurai sword, beautifully sheathed in blue satin, with a tooled gold hilt. Harry's jaw nearly dropped off.

"How did that come out of your sleeve?" Roderick demanded.

"It's beautiful," Delf breathed.

Master Jerome turned the edge of his sleeve inside out and showed a tiny pocket sewn on the inner lining. "I placed an undetectable extension charm on this pocket, that's all. And she is beautiful, isn't she?"

He placed the sword in the middle of the table. "Traditional warrior-wizards in Japan will often make and name a sword like this. They sometimes use swords in place of Western wands, but their uses tend to be more specialized. This type of sword is best at casting illusions. It distracts the enemy to allow an ambush or sneak attack. There are others that simply use attack magic, and others that generate clear-headedness in a person who has been befuddled by adversarial magic."

"Did you name…her?" Harry asked, fascinated.

"I did," Master Jerome replied, nodding. "I call her Kumorigurasu, which is Japanese for 'Cloudy Glass'."

"Why that?" Delf wanted to know.

"I have always thought it true that looking past the illusion of truth will let us see the truth in lies," their tutor replied blithely.  
Harry glanced between his friends, each of whom looked as confused as he felt. But sometimes Master Jerome just said stuff like that. He shrugged it off.

"Kum…origur…asu," Roderick attempted. His accent was atrocious.

"You may call her Glass," Master Jerome laughed. "And if you behave well, I will let her give a demonstration at the end of the lesson."

"Master," Delf said piously. "Would you please explain the difference between Arithmancy and Divination? Since I am taking both, I think it's essential that I understand their variances thoroughly." Roderick laughed at her over-serious expression.

In response, Master Jerome pulled a large book out of his tiny-giant pocket, and they all spent the next two hours organizing how they were going to divvy up the month. A certain amount of time was given over to international politics, both Muggle and magical; a week was dedicated to exploring the additional classes they were taking: Divination for all three of them; Care of Magical Creatures for Harry and Roderick; Ancient Runes for Delf and Harry; Muggle Studies for Roderick; and Arithmancy for Delf. They'd be taking Saturday the 20th off to celebrate Delf's birthday. The rest of the time would be committed to learning Occlumency. Harry smirked when Master Jerome told them that "all the meditation they'd been doing" would be the bedrock for their study of Occlumency that summer.

Mrs Greengrass brought up a tray laden with lunch stuffs at about eleven thirty, and for a time the space was filled with nothing but the contented munching of three hungry and excited students and their Master.

"So what have you all done with yourselves since last we met?" their Master asked equably, leaning back in his chair and knitting his fingers together behind his head.

"Harry got a tattoo," Roderick said promptly.

Master Jerome didn't so much as blink. "Let's see it then."

Harry grinned broadly and pulled his shirt off over his head. His Horntail swirled indifferently under his skin, gnashing its teeth at nothing and glaring out at them.

"An excellent work. Who applied it?"

"A friend of my uncle Sirius', Randolph Bigby," Harry replied.

"Ah, yes. A most accomplished ink-smith," Master Jerome said approvingly.

"And Delf drew it," Harry added, shooting a glance at his friend, who suddenly turned quite pink in the face.

"I had noticed it was very nicely effected," their tutor said warmly. Delf ducked her head.

"So can we meet Glass?" Harry begged, pulling his shirt back on.

Delf and Roderick added their voices to the plea, and Master Jerome, who had obviously wanted to do the demonstration since introducing the sword at the beginning of the lesson, obliged. They followed him out of the library, down the stairs, through the kitchen and the large living room, and outside through the large set of French doors. A large grass lawn stretched away from them towards a clump of old maple trees at the base of the property. They gathered around Master Jerome at the centre of the lawn, and watched with wide-eyed fascination as he gripped Glass with one hand at her golden hilt and the other mid-way down her satin-sheathed blade. He began muttering in Japanese, a chanting, lilting, musical language that Harry understood exactly none of. Suddenly, Master Jerome looked up and ripped the blade from its sheath almost faster than the eye could follow, and was gone. Harry, Delf and Roderick, started and looked around them.

"There!" Roderick shouted, pointing towards the trees. Master Jerome stood under the canopy, in the same position as when he had stood in front of his students. "That's just Apparation…" he groused, but Delf shushed him.

"Look," she whispered, pointing off to their left. Master Jerome stood some ten meters distant, holding Glass in the same fashion as he had before.

"But—" Harry began, turning back to the trees. Master Jerome stood there too, Glass poised in his hand.

"Over there!" Roderick exclaimed, pointing over Harry's shoulder. Another Master Jerome stood by the open French doors.

The trio drew tightly together, none willing to admit that the now-six Master Jeromes surrounding them were freaking them out.  
A soft word of Japanese issued from the air at Harry's right, and Master Jerome reappeared exactly where he had been before. At the same time, his doppelgängers all dissipated into the air. Their tutor smiled benignly. "Impressive, isn't she?" he asked, hefting Glass.

"WOW!" his students all cried at once.

As if they needed better reasons to be excited for summer tutoring.

And so, between lessons and friends and adventures, another summer passed and they prepared to return to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
> I know it's a bit long to go without Hogwarts, but we'll be there next chapter, never fear! And unlike the books, I'll be narrating a decent part of each summer, and this is the first taste.  
> I thought it was important to show all the ways my Harry's life is different from canon, beyond the obvious of having his family alive and not being the Boy Who Lived.
> 
> Chapter 3 next Sunday!
> 
> Half credit for this story goes to my friend fire1: we developed and outlined this idea together and there's no way it would exist without her. Go check her page out!
> 
> All characters are owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros, etc.  
> E.I. signing out
> 
> (Oh and before people start in about a Tattoo at 13 I know three guys who got Tattoo before they were 14..... yes I have friends from all walks of life. so to me it's not that off to see a 13 year old get one. Fire1)


	3. Chapter Two: Exactly Like the Train Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two: Everyone is off to school.  
> Again this is work of Collaboration between myself and Excited-Insomniac over at FF.net were the story is also posted. Excited-Insomniac wrote out all the chapters were as I help plot out and create the OC in the story.

_Chapter Two: Exactly Like the Train Ride_

Platform 9 ¾ was filled with smoke and noise and students and parents and shrieking owls and a large scarlet train belching steam from its smokestack, as usual. Harry looked around happily, but glanced back at his parents, who were currently fawning over Tom, and slipped away into the confusion. His parents had never come to the Platform with him before, and Harry saw no reason to change his routine simply because they were there now. There had been an event for Tom the first time he had gone (they had told him gently that time – the shame of forgetting his eleventh birthday and his broken arm were still fresh by then), so Sirius had taken him. That was the year Sirius had taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, so it made sense for him to go anyway, but still…. Last year, Lily had had the flu, and James had work, so Sirius took him again. But this year, Tom had to come, and suddenly they were tripping over themselves to get to the Platform on time.

"Harry!" He looked up and grinned as he saw Delf making her way towards him through the crowds. When she finally got to him she hugged him warmly.

"Hullo, Delf," he said, smiling into her happy-gold eyes. Roderick came trotting up in the wake of their friend.

"Hey, Harry. You here with Sirius again?"

Harry shook his head. "It's Tom's first year, remember? Mum and Dad brought us."

"Right, of course. It's Draco's too."

"Your dad's here then?"

"Yeah," Roderick said shortly. Where Harry usually came with no parents, Roderick's mum at least accompanied him. This year, with his younger brother coming along, his dad had showed up as well.

Just then an ear-splitting whistle sounded, and the babble rose in a wave of excited farewells. Delf strode off to say goodbye to her parents and sister and brother, telling them to save a spot for her. Harry and Roderick boarded the train without saying goodbye to anyone, and in short order had found an empty compartment. They settled in with no fuss, and soon had nothing to do but wait for the train to get underway. Roderick seemed preoccupied, and Harry was happy to leave him to his thoughts after he saw his mum and dad kissing Tom goodbye a little way down the platform. They weren't even looking for him.

But before long, Delf breezed in, like a dose of sunshine and fresh air, and rescued the boys from their gloomy thoughts.

"I'm so excited for this year! Divination is going to be such a laugh, can you imagine? And Master Jerome made Arithmancy sound just so fascinating. I wish you two were taking it."

"No, thanks. I'm taking Divination for a lark: I don't need to combine fortune telling with maths," Roderick said dryly as the train lurched forward. The sounds of children and parents shouting goodbyes made it through the closed window, and a shadow crossed Roderick's face.

"It's not just fortune telling and maths," Delf protested hotly "It's –"

"In any case," Harry cut her off loudly, forestalling more pointless bickering. "My main concern is Tom being at Hogwarts. What if he's in Ravenclaw with us?"

"Perish the thought!" Delf exclaimed.

"At least I don't have to worry about Draco: he's Slytherin through and through," Roderick said thankfully.

"And Harry, just think: if Tom gets to be trouble, we can set the Weasley twins on him."

"Who's that taking our name in vain?" a voice inquired from the doorway. The trio looked up in surprise to see Fred and George Weasley, covered in freckles, really red hair, and mischievous grins.

"Hullo," Harry said, smiling. "Long time. We were just saying that if my brother gets out of line, we'll ask you to set him straight."

The twins laughed and sat down on either side of Roderick, across from Harry and Delf. "Yeah, it's our little brother's first year too. We'll keep an eye out," Fred promised.

"Wow, did all our parents just get sick of us when we turned two or what?" Harry laughed.

"Well, maybe they got sick of you male brutes, but with my gentle feminine charms, my parents were happy with me 'till I was three," Delf bragged.

Roderick shook his head sadly. "What happened to those poor feminine charms, I wonder?" Harry and the twins laughed as Delf kicked Roderick in the shin.

"Hello, everyone" fourth-year Hufflepuff Cedric Diggory said, leaning against the doorframe.

"Hi, Ced!" they all chorused. Harry scooted closer to Delf and Cedric sank onto the bench next to him. "What did you do for summer?" Roderick asked.

"Not much: practiced flying and visited family. What about you all?"

"Annoyed Percy and Mum," the twins said together. The others laughed.

"We visited Muggle London," Roderick began eagerly, but just then—

" _Here_ you all are," Tracey exclaimed, stumbling into their compartment as the train rounded a particularly sharp curve. "I've been all up and down the train three times, it seems like!"

"Here, sit down," Roderick said quickly, squishing George against the window to make room between himself and Fred. Harry rolled his eyes.

"What were you talking about?" Tracey asked, and the conversation started all over again. They had gone around the compartment sharing stories (Cedric had an especially amusing one about his aunt Transfiguring her cat into a pillow after it shredded one, and how the animal coughed stuffing for the rest of the week), and had just gotten to Harry when the candy trolley arrived. They all chipped in for a veritable mountain of Chocolate Frogs, Bernie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans, Sugar Quills, and other such confections. For a few moments, there was only the sound of wrappers being pulled off sweets and stuffed eagerly into mouths. Tracey got an ink flavoured Bean when she had been expecting liquorish; Fred got a spit flavoured one; Delf somehow managed to lay hand on one that tasted like food, and although it was only gravy, she cut her losses and stopped eating them. Harry opened a Chocolate Frog and groaned when he saw his own brother smiling smugly up at him from the card. "THOMAS EVANS POTTER, THE BOY WHO LIVED: The only known wizard to survive the Killer Curse, Thomas Potter is most famous for defeating the dark wizard He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, also known as You-Know-Who on Halloween of 1981 when he was just a year old. Thomas Potter enjoys playing Quidditch with friends and looks forward to an even more illustrious career in the future," he read aloud disgustedly. A series of derisive snorts made the rounds. Roderick got a Dumbledore one and read that too, though they had all heard it before. "ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS: Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945 and for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on the Philosopher's Stone with partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling."

"Nineteen-forty-five? How old is Dumbledore anyway?" Cedric demanded incredulously.

"At least two-hundred," Tracey said confidently. "What?" she asked, seeing the looks her friends were giving her. "Have you looked at him?"

"So what did you do, Harry? The candy sort of distracted us," George reminded him.

In answer, Harry grinned broadly and took off his robe and shirt. The twins wolf-whistled and Delf giggled helplessly.

"I got a tattoo!"

"OOO, I didn't get to see it during summer!" Tracey exclaimed.

"What is it, what is it?" the twins demanded, surging forward to get a look.

Roderick grinned and leaned back in his seat, enjoying the others' enthusiasm with the air of an indulgent parent supervising his children at play.

"Did it hurt?"

"Where did you get it done?"

"Who drew it?"

"Your parents actually let you get a tattoo?"

"A _WHAT!?"_

Harry whipped around. "Tom!" The boy stood framed in the doorway, his jaw down around the level of his navel. Harry uselessly tried to pull his robes over himself, but the effort was wasted as the dragon flowed over his shoulder and snapped at nothing. Tom was speechless and his hazel eyes were huge and round behind his glasses.

"TOM!" Harry shouted again as his brother turned and pounded back down the aisle, whatever errand he'd come for totally forgotten. "Bollocks!" He pulled his shirt back over his head. "George, Fred, I may be calling on your services sooner than I had anticipated. If I know Tom, that will find its way back to Mum faster than you can say 'Quidditch'."

They both saluted smartly, and George affirmed "Count on us, mate."

Before anyone could say anything else, there was yet another person demanding attention from the doorway. What an unusually busy train ride, Harry reflected drearily.

"Hello," said the newcomer politely. "I'm searching for a toad. Have you seen one?"

"Oh, I know you!" Harry exclaimed, distracted from his funk. "You were at the Muggle Meet-and-Greet! Hermione, right?"

Her eyes widened. "Yes, Hermione Granger. Your name is Harry, isn't it?"

"Right." He grinned. "Nice to see you made it to the train in one piece."

"Do some people not?" She sounded alarmed.

"No, sorry, it's a figure of speech. Why are you looking for a toad?"

"Well, this boy's lost his one. His name is Trevor. The toad's is, not the boy's. The boy's name is Neville Longbottom."

"Oh, sure, I know him. We'll bring it 'round if we see it."

"Thanks very much. We're in a carriage with Thomas Potter and Ronald Weasley, do you know them?"

Harry groaned, while the twins chortled. "Yeah, I do, actually. We'll bring it if we find it."

With one last confused glance around at the rest of them, the frizzy-haired girl turned on her heel and was gone.

"If this is any indication of what the rest of the year is going to be like, someone please just kill me now," Harry begged, shutting his eyes and sagging against the back of the bench.

"Not a chance! This is far too funny," Roderick said.

"You'll be singing a different tune when it's your brother getting on your nerves," Harry promised grimly. He reached for the pile of bags of Bernie Botts Every Flavoured Beans, digging for one that felt promising, and felt – skin? Bumpy, warty skin?

Something in the pile croaked and Harry withdrew his hand hastily. "Please don't tell me…"

The twins quickly had the task of uncovering the wayward creature completed, and Fred was suddenly holding the toad in question out to Harry.

"What do you want me to do with that?" Harry asked crossly, glaring at the thing.

"Isn't it obvious? This is the perfect excuse to find your brother's carriage and intimidate him into keeping your secret," George explained, nodding in the general direction of Harry's shoulder.

"That's not a half bad idea," Cedric said thoughtfully.

"And knowing your mum, it might be a good idea to at least try to prevent Tom from telling her," Roderick added.

"Fine," Harry huffed. "I'll do it." He took the toad gingerly from Fred. It didn't so much as blink.

"Good luck!" the twins chorused as he stepped into the aisle.

Harry reluctantly followed in his brother's steps down the train, peering into each booth, and greeting everyone he knew: a quick hello to Roger Davies, the last of the Ravenclaw Chasers (tryouts for two new ones would have to be held); 30 awkward seconds spent trying to escape from two girls from Delf's dorm, Kelly and Amanda; another kid from the Muggle Meet-and-Greet wanted to know if he really had to fight a giant to be accepted at Hogwarts; he directed Lee Jordan back to his carriage to find the twins, as apparently they had a lot to discuss, including the giant tarantula Lee had in a shoebox. Finally, three cars down, he found Tom's compartment. As he should have expected, it was stuffed with fans and new and old friends alike. From what he could see through the window, Tom held the place of honor in the middle of the forward-facing bench. To his right was a boy with such red hair and freckles that he couldn't be anyone else but the twins' younger brother, Ron. On his right were a couple of pretty Indian girls, probably twins by the look of them. They appeared to be giggling at everything he said. On the opposite bench sat Hermione Granger in earnest conversation with a chubby boy Harry recognized as Neville Longbottom, who appeared to be crying. On Hermione's other side sat yet another girl Tom's age who Harry didn't know. She was also giggling madly whenever Tom opened his mouth.

Harry slid the door open and they all fell silent. Tom's eyes went wide.

"Sorry to bother you," Harry said pleasantly. "Neville, I've got your toad. He was hiding in our candy and we didn't find him till Hermione left."

Neville stopped sniffing and smiled widely. "Trevor!" Harry handed the sandy-skinned animal over with not a milligram of reluctance.

Tom suddenly noticed that all the girls (except Hermione – Harry was starting to like her) were staring at Harry rather than him. He scowled blackly.

"I'm Lavender Brown," the girl on Hermione's right side said eagerly.

"I'm Parvarti Patil," said one of the twin girls next to Tom.

"And I'm Padma," said the other.

"Hello, everyone," Harry replied, wishing he could just beat Tom up and leave. "I'm Harry Potter, Tom's older brother. I was actually hoping I could borrow him for a bit." For some reason the girls (except Hermione – Harry really hoped she'd be friends with Tom and bring his ego down a bit) found this extremely funny and burst out in giggles again. Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Tom?" he said pointedly, stepping to the side of the doorway to allow space for his brother to get through.

Tom couldn't ignore the gesture. He stood with about as much reluctance as Harry had back in his own compartment and slouched out into the aisle. "Nice to meet you, Ron," Harry said to the redhead by the window as he slid the door shut. The boy looked startled at being recognized so casually.

"Now." Harry faced his brother, who looked sullen, but worried. "You have recently stumbled upon a piece of information that I sincerely wish you didn't have. However, since you do have it, this is what I'm going to do: if any hint of this information should ever reach Mum or Dad – but especially Mum – I will personally make sure that you never have a comfortable day at Hogwarts or home ever again. You know your friend Ron in there?" Tom nodded silently. "Two of his older brothers are the biggest pranksters in the school, and they happen to owe me a couple favours. I would hate to see what they could cook up for you. Do we understand each other?" Tom nodded again. "Good. Now what did you want in the first place?"

Tom cleared his throat. "I wanted to borrow money for the candy trolley. I didn't know we were supposed to bring any to school."

"Oh, Mum and Dad didn't tell you that?" Harry hadn't meant to sound so snide.

Tom didn't notice: "No. They said I'd only need money once I started going to Hogsmeade in a couple years."

Harry grunted unsympathetically. "I'll give you four Sickles I left over. The rest is in my trunk. See if you can't catch up with her." Harry dug in his robe pocket. He pulled out the money and a little pentagonal card. "Oh, and here's your most recent Chocolate Frog card. I think this is from when you were nine." He held out the money and card. Tom took everything, pocketing the coins and examining the picture, which depicted Tom grinning complacently and showing off his scar. He sniffed.

"Thanks, but I have three of these already." He handed it back. "Give it to one of your friends."

"None of my friends want this. Give it to one of your admirers."

Tom glared at him coldly. "They're my _friends_. You're not the only one who has them." He opened the sliding door, stepped inside, and slammed it smartly in Harry's face.

"Yes, but between the two of us, who made friends just because he's famous?" Harry muttered as he made his way back to his compartment. The twins had left in his absence, spirited away by Lee Jordan on one of their mysterious errands. Cedric was asking Delf, Tracey and Roderick about what extra courses they were taking. Tracey and Roderick were busy comparing notes of why they'd signed up for Muggle Studies: Roderick didn't know a thing about them outside of what little he'd seen in Muggle London and what Master Jerome had said on the basics of Muggle politics. Tracey was the opposite. Being raised in the Muggle world, she knew every intimate thing there was to know about them. She was more interested in how wizards saw Muggles. Delf made room between herself and the window and Harry sat down gratefully.

"How'd intimidating your brother go?" Roderick asked sympathetically, noting the look on Harry's face.

"I'm not sure. I threatened him with the twins, but he doesn't know them yet, so it didn't mean much. I just hope nothing happens that makes him think getting me in trouble will get him out of trouble."

Delf glanced at him sharply. "You sound like you think that's exactly what will happen."

"You don't know Tom like I do. You know Dad gave him the Invisibility Cloak?"

"But I thought the oldest—"

"The oldest is meant to get it, you're right. But that's not the point. The point is that Tom has the Cloak and not much respect for anyone besides himself. He's going to get in trouble as sure as – as – I don't know, as sure as my name is Harry."

The others looked sympathetic, but no one really liked the topic, and conversation soon reverted to more pleasant things like new classes and Hogsmeade and gossip. Cedric warned them all of particularly difficult sections if he had taken the classes they were in, and made them all very jealous of adventures he'd had in Hogsmeade the previous year.

The Express pulled into Hogsmeade station eventually, and there was a great confusion and kerfuffle as everyone tumbled off the train and stretched their legs. Hagrid was bellowing over everyone's heads for the first years to follow him, and Harry decided it would be best to greet his friend later and thank him for Hedwig properly. He, Delf, Roderick and Tracey (Cedric had been lured away by some friends from Hufflepuff) stumbled their way across the pavement, tripping over younger students and jostled by older ones, to the long line of horseless carriages that would take them up to Hogwarts. The night was drizzly and cold, and they huddled gratefully in the relative warmth of the coach.

Peering out of the foggy window, Harry thought that Hogwarts had never looked so inviting, despite the fact that it was being invaded by Tom. Tiny lights winked from every window, and he felt like he could already smell the delicious welcome feast the kitchen house elves had prepared for them. He could imagine his comfy corner in the Ravenclaw dorm, and anticipated eagerly many nights spent up talking and working with Delf and Roderick in front of one of the common room fires.

The carriage ground to a halt in front of the gigantic front gates, and the four of them clambered out: first Tracey, Delf, and Roderick, and Harry bringing up the rear. The carriage trundled away behind them and they followed the stream of students already hustling up towards that castle. They passed into the Entrance Hall and sighed with pleasure as warmth from the Great Hall embraced them. They made their way to the Ravenclaw table (bidding Tracey a temporary goodbye as she split off towards the Slytherin one), happily greeting friends and laughing as all the shouted salutations became completely jumbled. Ghosts floated around or through people, as suited them, and Peeves sailed by overhead, singing some ridiculously dirty song he'd composed over summer.

The teachers smiled tolerantly from their table at the top of the Hall, where the Sorting Hat sat on its stool and waited patiently for its newest batch of first years. Harry scanned the table as they sat down. "Look, there's our new Defense professor," he said, pointing at the nervous-looking man in a turban who sat next to Professor Snape. The other two craned around eagerly to catch a glimpse of him, but just then, the large doors burst open, and Professor McGonagall marched in, trailing a scraggly line of first years. There was Hermione, right up front with another girl; Draco just behind; Ron stared around queasily; Parvati and Padma clutched one anothers' hands; poor Neville looked like he was about to faint; Tom, looking neither nervous nor scared, but confident and self-assured, was flaunting his scar. People began to recognize him, and excited gasps and whispers rushed through the Hall.

_"It's him!"_

_"The_ Thomas Potter?"

"My sister's in his year…"

"—Ravenclaw?"

"—brother—"

"—were both in Gryff—"

"Tom Potter!"

The new first years assembled in front of the Sorting Hat, and everyone fell silent. The large seam along the bottom edge opened wide and out spilled a brand new Sorting Song:

"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,  
but don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart:  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (thought I have none)  
For I'm a thinking cap!"

The seam resealed itself as Professor McGonagall pulled a piece of parchment from her sleeve and read clearly, "Abbott, Hannah." The girl who had walked in next to Hermione stepped forward and sat on the stool, and Professor McGonagall lowered the Hat onto her head. It sank over her eyes, and people tittered.

"HUFFELPUFF!" the Hat announced, and the whole Hall clapped.

"What do you think, Harry?" a fifth year girl Harry knew slightly whispered from across the table. "Will your brother come here or go to Gryffindor like your mum and dad?"

"I _hope_ he doesn't come here," Harry murmured back. Anyone who could hear giggled and turned to whisper to their neighbors. Soon the whole table would think that Tom didn't deserve to be a Ravenclaw. It wasn't quite the rumor he'd meant to start, but he wasn't about to contradict it.

Professor McGonagall had gotten go "Granger, Hermione," and the frizzy-haired girl stepped forward shakily. "I bet she's coming here," Harry murmured to Delf, but the Hat proved him wrong:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Hope you're not that wrong about Tom, Harry," Roderick said softly. Harry shivered at the thought.

Neville went to Gryffindor. Draco went straight to Slytherin (Roderick sighed with relief). A girl called Pansy Parkinson also went to Slytherin. Padma Patil came to Ravenclaw, but Parvati went to Gryffindor. Then,

"Potter, Thomas!"

The Hall became silent.

Tom went to the stool and sat.

The Hat pushed his glasses down his nose and he had to catch them before they fell into his lap. A few people laughed.

Harry didn't know what the Hat was saying to Tom (and he didn't care as long as the outcome was good), but he did clearly remember what the Hat had said to him two years ago: "You have a familial history of going to Gryffindor, I see, and you would do well in Slytherin… Ah, but I can see you've chosen Ravenclaw. I'd say it's a good fit, because you are intelligent, but you're also determined to be your own person, and that's what's most important."

Harry crossed his fingers beneath the table as the moments crept on.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Tom got the loudest cheer yet as he went to sit down, but Harry's relief made him weak. He barely noticed the rest of the Sorting, though he did hear the twins cat-calling as Ron became the latest Weasley addition to Gryffindor house.

As soon as the clapping and cheering died down, Dumbledore stood and addressed the now-attentive crowd.

"I'd just like to say a few words before we all become too befuddled by our excellent feast: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" The Hall laughed as one.

And finally, the Feast! Harry enjoyed Tipsy's cooking, of course, even when he botched it by trying to help. But there really was no beating Hogwarts food. The sheer quantity! The sheer variety! He piled his plate high and dug in.

And even after three helpings of ham and mash and tiny buttery peas, there was dessert. Tarts and cakes and pies galore, all washed down with liters of pumpkin juice. Harry's head was buzzing pleasantly by the end of the meal.

"Ahem." Dumbledore was again standing at his seat at the teachers' table. "Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the Forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore glanced at the Weasley twins, who in turn glared at Harry. Harry looked as innocent as he could as the rest of the students laughed.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the Caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry groaned. "This year _is_ going to be one long version of the train ride!"

Roderick patted his head in mock-sympathy, but Harry found that he was really too full and contented to be worried for long.

Prefects began calling up and down the Hall for first years – and any other nincompoop who didn't know their way to their dorm by second year or whatever – to please get up and follow them. Harry noticed Percy's bossy voice rising above the others and laughed to himself. Tom wouldn't like THAT kind of authority, that was for sure.

He, Delf and Roderick made their way up to the Ravenclaw Tower, accompanied by many greetings as they met friends and acquaintances they hadn't seen over the summer. The eagle-shaped knocker stirred sleepily and mumbled something that, at the back, Harry and Delf and Roderick couldn't quite hear. The Prefect seemed to get it right though, since the door swung open and Ravenclaws of various years poured into the common room. The first years were appropriately awed, Harry noticed with satisfaction. The Ravenclaw common room really was remarkable. Upon entering, one was faced with an enormous four-storey-high window that recommended a beautiful view out over the lake and the mountains beyond. On each side of the door, large staircases curved away up the walls to the first level of dorms, where the first, second, and third years lived. Another level up lead to the fourth, fifth, and sixth year dorms, and the third level was reserved for seventh years, who got special quarters. In the centre of the floor stood a large statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, the house's namesake, and scattered around her were desks and bookcases and sofas. Twin fires burned in alcoves where the room cut underneath the dorms. Harry thought it was the most welcome sight he'd ever laid eyes on.

The Prefects began shouting instructions about which gender went on which side, and which year got which dorm and such things, but the trio understood all that nonsense already, so Harry and Roderick said goodnight to Delf and quickly headed upstairs. They went to the last door on the first landing and introduced themselves to their new dorm. More or less identical to every other set of boys' dorms, there were five beds lined up along the wall on the left-hand side of the door, with a trunk at the foot of each and a small wardrobe against the opposite wall. Andrew Leyborn was already there, and had claimed the bed closest to the door.

"Hallo, Harry, Roderick," he said, nodding. Andrew was not a talkative person by any stretch of the imagination, but he was honest and had never done anything to piss anyone off, so Harry liked him. He and Roderick took the beds farthest from the door (and, consequentially, closest to the loo). Their trunks were already there, as the house elves who put them there knew their preferences by now. Will Slatten and Lawrence Key came up from the common room, and happy greetings were exchanged. Will, Lawrence and Andrew stuck together like Harry and Roderick did, but all five got along together fine. Harry decided to save proper unpacking for the weekend, changed into some pajamas, washed his teeth, and went to bed.

-o-

He awoke refreshed and alert the next morning, and for a moment let himself lie in bed and breathe those wonderful Hogwarts smells and listen to the light snoring of his dorm-mates. They wouldn't be up for an hour yet, and this gave Harry plenty of time to relax into his morning routine. He rose and dressed before quietly leaving the dorm and tip-toeing down the stairs, out of the common room, and out of the labyrinthine corridors of the castle till he came to the large main doors and slipped outside into the cool dawn.

He trotted down to the lake, where he stretched, and then set off at a jog around the rim of the lake. The rout took him close to the Forbidden Forest, and his mind wandered back to the previous years where similar excursions had led to some very strange adventures. Once, at the beginning of the previous year, on a cool September morning quite similar to this one, Harry had been out running when suddenly, a bull-sized Cerberus puppy came thundering out of the woods straight for him, panting and barking and baying all three of its heads off. Hagrid, gasping and heaving, had come running behind, yelling "Fluffy! C'mere, boy, here, boy!" Harry and Hagrid had together managed to leash the enormous canine, and Harry had made nice with Fluffy. He and Hagrid had bonded over the experience too, and were still friends. Another time, as the dim dawn fog dissipated into mist, and then nothingness, Harry had seen a unicorn. It had pawed the earth twice with its foreleg, and then cantered into the trees. The experience had left him dazed with awe for the rest of the day, prompting many concerned looks from Roderick and Delf.

Bringing his mind out of the past, Harry turned back and jogged up towards the castle, eyeing the large tree at the top of the lake as his destination. Settling himself beneath the branches, he crossed his legs and closed his eyes, and settled into the calm inner place he had established with so many mornings spent similarly in quiet meditation. He focused on breathing the cool autumn air, as Master Jerome had instructed him: in, out, in, out, in…

A cold splash of water in his face jolted him back to himself. Spluttering and wiping moisture out of his eyes, he cast around for the culprit, seeking wayward Weasleys or sneaky Greeengrasses and seeing… a giant tentacle waving from about a hundred yards out from the shore of the lake. Harry stared, then laughed. There were stories of the giant squid in the lake, but he had never seen it for himself. He waved back, and the enormous sea creature slid back into the depths.

Grinning, Harry trotted back up to the castle, snuck back up to Ravenclaw Tower, was stumped for five minutes in front of the imperturbable knocker before correctly answering its riddle, and dashed up into his dorm and was in the shower before the others were even stirring.

The next two weeks seemed to all mesh together in his memory. They got their schedules that first morning, and, upon examination, saw that they had almost all of their classes together except Muggle Studies for Roderick and Arithmancy for Delf.

Of course their first class would be Divination. It was just about as hilarious as they had expected. They sat in the back and fought sleep as Professor Trelawny droned on and on about auras and crystal balls and stars and all sorts of such nonsense. The only interesting bit came when she began to – dance? – around the room and sort of crooned to herself. As she began to get near their table by the back wall, she stopped, opened her eyes (magnified one-hundred-fold by her enormous glasses), and raised an arm to point at Harry dramatically. "You…" she cried. "You shall face grave danger! Dangers the like of which no one has ever heard! My boy… I fear you shall be dead to us before the year is out!" The small portion of the class who had actually been paying attention (comprised mostly of girls – Gregory Potter's portrait had been right about that) gasped in unison.

Slightly startled, all Harry could say was, "Oh. Alright." Seeming slightly put out, Professor Trelawny returned to the front of the classroom with a rather un-mystical stomp, and the rest of class passed in a state of deadly boredom they came to anticipate for the rest of the year.

After that came double Charms with Gryffindor. Regardless of him being their Head of House, Harry really quite like Professor Flitwick, who never assigned too much homework and gave plenty of praise where it was deserved. Harry, Delf, Roderick, the twins, and Lee Jordan sat in the back and tested out charms they remembered from last year on each other. When Fred began clucking like a chicken, they decided it was wise to stop, but not before passing much a class in a most entertaining fashion.

Lunch was next, and after that was Potions, a class Harry particularly enjoyed for no other reason than that he was good at it. Professor Snape hadn't liked him at all at the beginning of first year, but after he figured out it was because he and James had a grudge from watching how he acted with Sirius, Harry met him during office hours and explained some of the more pertinent parts of his relationship with his parents, and he and the Potions Master were on reasonably good terms after that. They had the class with Slytherin, so Roderick paired off with Tracey, leaving Harry and Delf to their own devices.

Harry and Delf had Ancient Runes after Potions, but Roderick went off to the library for a free hour. They only started on basic shapes and figures, but Harry decided he liked the look of Ancient Runes as a class. Delf, however, pronounced it "Probably useful somehow, but dead boring in the meantime".

They met back up with Roderick for History of Magic, with Slytherin again, and settled in for another in the dullest hours of their lives. They had drawn straws and it was Roderick's turn to take notes, with Harry doing it next time, Delf the time after, and so on.

Then it was dinner, and conversation was filled with comparisons of what classes were better, what teachers were doing different, and a healthy dose of gossip about fellow students.

After dinner, Harry took a trot down to Hagrid's cabin to say hello and thank him for Hedwig, and wound up staying for half an hour as they discussed things like the health of the Mugwumps, the pumpkins already growing in the patch out back, and the plans Harry had for the year. He left at dusk, surreptitiously feeling for loose teeth after gnawing on one of Hagrid's rock-hard kettle-cakes.

The next day brought double Transfiguration with Hufflepuff, where they were beginning to work with live animals, to everyone's excitement. In the middle of class, Professor McGonagall told Harry that she had won five Galleons off Professor Flitwick because Tom went to Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw. Harry told her wholeheartedly that he was glad.

After that, Harry and Roderick went to Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Kettleburn, while Delf went off to figure out what Arithmancy's deal was. The boys learned with some excitement that the first year of the class would be magical aquatic life, culminating in meeting some merpeople.

Delf joined them again for double Defense Against the Dark Arts with the new Professor Quirrel, again with Hufflepuff. As soon as Harry entered the classroom, a twinge of pain shot up his forehead. He touched the spot, and found his little crooked scar waiting for him. The pain didn't dissipate at all during class, but eased at once back in the hallway. Harry brushed it off as not having eaten enough at lunch.

They met the Slytherins for Herbology, where Delf snagged Tracey as a partner before Roderick could get to her.

Harry barely ever saw Tom except at meal times, when he was surrounded by doting fans, and this lack of contact seemed to suit both boys just fine. Or rather, it suited Harry just fine, and Tom didn't seem to notice it.

Two weeks into term, Abigail Wastress, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, came up to Harry during breakfast and told him that they were having tryouts for two new Chasers that weekend. Delf rolled her eyes at the boys' continued "obsession", as she called it, with Quidditch, but Roderick looked thoughtful.

"Harry! Roderick!" They both looked up to see the twins hurrying past Abigail, who looked disapproving at members of opposing teams fraternizing so openly. "Guess what?"

Harry and Roderick looked at each other. "What?" they asked together.

"Your brother has a duel with _your_ brother!"

They both groaned. "Tom's dueling _Draco_?" Harry demanded just as Roderick proclaimed "They're idiots!"

"How do you know?" Delf asked.

"He's in Gryffindor and our brother's his best friend. Don't doubt our sources, if you please," George huffed, pretending offense.

"But really, what happened?" Harry asked.

"Well, your brother," Fred pointed at Harry.

"And _your_ brother," George pointed at Roderick.

"Somehow got in a right bit of trouble last week for something or other they did together in Flying, and your brother," Fred pointed at Roderick.

"Blamed _your_ brother," George pointed at Harry.

"For whatever it was that happened since they both got detention for it."

"So then your brother," George pointed at Roderick again.

"Demanded to duel _your_ brother," Fred pointed at Harry "for satisfaction."

"Which is going to happen at midnight on Friday in the Trophy Room," George finished, with a great deal of his own satisfaction.

"You could have just said 'Tom' and 'Draco' instead of 'your brother' and all that pointing," Delf said crossly.

"Ah, but our way lent so much more to dramatic effect," Fred said wisely, wagging a finger at her.

"What are we going to do about them?" Harry demanded, turning to Roderick.

"I have no idea. But if I know my brother, he has something planned for this 'duel' thing."

"Right. Hate to say it, mate, but your brother's a git from what we've heard," Fred said sympathetically.

"Yeah. Anyway, we've got places to be and a caretaker to terrorize. Tell us if you need anything," George added.

"Count on it. See you," Harry said distractedly as the twins went off to hatch whatever new plan they had to hand. "So what should we do? What do you think your brother is up to?"

"I really don't know. If I had to guess, I'd say he's trying to get Tom in trouble, but as to how…"

"Well, clearly, he's going to play dirty," Delf said matter-of-factly. "First years not even a month into term don't know enough to really do much in a duel, so Draco's probably done some research on hexes and jinxes and such. Tom may be an idiot, but he's honourable, and expects the same of his opponent." Roderick and Harry stared at her. "What? It's basic personality analysis."

"Alright then. Well, how about we're their seconds? We could make sure they play fair and don't get hurt."

"I just don't see why we have to do anything," Roderick said grouchily. "It's hardly our fault they're being morons."

"Because it will really irritate them," Harry replied.

Roderick paused. "Okay, fair enough. How do we convince them to let us horn in?"

"'Convince'? What's this 'convince'?" Harry laughed. "No, we _make_ them!"

Delf grinned. "Harry, you're terrible. But that's why I love you."

Roderick looked very directly at her and said "Hm." For some reason, she blushed deep red.

Mystified, Harry carried on: "We'll just escort them from their dorms Friday night and supervise their 'duel' and they'll feel so ridiculous they'll behave for a while."

"You forget they aren't in Ravenclaw. 'Escorting them from their dorms' may be slightly difficult."

"Roderick. You're completely right. They're in Gryffindor and Slytherin and we don't know anyone in those houses who would be willing to help us out."

"Alright, alright, forget it! We'll do what you say. I'll talk to Tracey later if you want to go find the twins."

And that's what they did. Friday arrived, and they all snuck out: Delf to stake out the Trophy Room, Roderick to meet Tracey, who would take him to the Slytherin dorms, and Harry with the Map as a guide to the Gryffindor Tower.

Climbing the last set of moving stairs, he come across Neville Longbottom crying outside of a large painting of an obese woman in a pink dress which hid the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.

"Hello, Neville," he said, putting the Map away.

"Oh. Hi," he sniffed. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm collecting my brother. Why are you out here?"

"I forgot the password for the Fat Lady."

"Oh, I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, the twins are supposed to let me in any second."

"What do you need Tom for?"

"He did something stupid, so I'm going to make his feel stupid."

"Oh."

Five minutes later, the Fat Lady swung open and Fred poked his head out. "Hallo, Harry. Hallo, Neville. Come on in."

"What?" the Fat Lady squawked. "He's not allowed in there! He's not a Gryffindor!"

"I'll just be a moment, ma'am. I'm fetching my brother."

"Besides, you're already open, so," Fred added.

"Why, I never, in all my—!" Her frame shut behind them, cutting her protestations off.

Harry had never been in the Gryffindor common room before, and looked around with interest. A fire roared at one end of the room; couches, tables, and large poofy chairs littered the floor; the standard pair of staircases let up to the dorms. The theme colors, of course, were gold and scarlet, and Harry felt oddly out of place in his blue and bronze jumper. The twins clapped him on the shoulders.

"Welcome, Harry, to our humble home away from home. Have a seat while we go wrestle your brother down."

Harry lowered himself into an overstuffed armchair by the fire and looked around. A couple sixth years were playing wizard's chess in a corner; a third year he recognized from Charms was playing someone he didn't know in Exploding Snaps. Harry thought it was odd that no one was studying, as that was almost all anyone did in the Ravenclaw common room.

Fred and George reappeared, nearly carrying Tom down the stairs, so tight were their grips on his arms.

"—we going? I have someplace I have to be soon! Put me down!" he was saying as he came into view. Harry stood up. "Harry!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here? This is the Gryffindor common room! You're in Ravenclaw!" Ron careened down the stairs behind them, struggling with his robes. A few people looked up, interested in the blooming confrontation.

"I know where you have to be at midnight. I'm going to take you there."

"I don't need you to take me there! I know where I'm going! I know what I'm doing!" Tom blustered.

"Oh, sure, I believe you. I'm just along for the ride," Harry said, placating his irate brother. "It's not every day Thomas Potter dukes it out with Draco Malfoy in the middle of the night, right? I want to see what happens, that's all."

"Well," Tom huffed. "I really don't think it'll be much of a contest. Between him and me, who's had more experience beating people in single combat anyway?"

"You didn't defeat You-Know-Who in single combat, Tom. Shall we go?"

Just then, Hermione Granger rushed down the girl's stairs: "Oh, Harry, thank goodness you're here! Wait, how did you get—? Oh, never mind. Please tell me you've come to talk Tom out of this ridiculous business! He's absolutely mad to go through with it. What if he gets caught?"

"Harry's not here to talk Tom out of it, Hermione. He's coming along. Why don't you go study or something?" Ron said snidely.

Hermione turned wounded eyes on Harry. "How could you let him do this? He's your _brother_! You're supposed to set an _example_ and show him how to be- _have_! Not let him go gallivanting off in the middle of the night to get in trouble!"

"That's exactly why I'm going: so he _won't_ get in trouble. Trust me, Hermione, I know what I'm doing." He felt bad pretending to support this cockamamie plan of Tom's, but he couldn't tell her that he actually hoped to teach his brother a lesson. Tom was right there, for one thing, and _he_ certainly couldn't know.

"Come _on_ , we're going to be late," Tom whined. Ron pushed the painting open and hopped outside, followed closely by Tom.

"Good luck with them, mate," George whispered in Harry's ear before he and his twin headed upstairs. He nodded and headed for the hole in the wall. Hermione looked at him beseechingly.

"Do you want to come?" he asked.

"No!" she said loudly, clearly intent on maintaining her position of moral superiority.

Harry shrugged. "See you later, then." He followed Ron and Tom out into the corridor, and bid the affronted Fat Lady a cordial good evening. She immediately left her frame and reappeared in the next portrait down the hall and dove down the well it depicted in the corner.

"Hope she's back when we need to get in," Ron mumbled. Tom nodded. Harry reflected on the poor judgment someone had shown in allowing a portrait, which could be tricked or simply go away as the Fat Lady had, to guard a dorm, but didn't say anything.

They trekked silently through the sleeping castle, not lighting wands or saying so much as a murmur till they got to the Trophy Room, where they found Delf, Roderick, and an even-paler-than-usual Draco waiting for them.

"Hello, all," Roderick said cheerfully. "This had better be a very short duel, because Filch will be here any moment now."

Ron and Tom's mouths dropped open. Harry glanced at Draco and saw his pale cheeks flush. Why, that little…!

"Malfoy, you louse!" Tom said angrily. "You set us up!" Harry pursed his lips to keep from laughing at his brother's juvenile choice of insult. 'Louse'? Really?

Something moved and Harry spun about just as Delf hissed, "Mrs. Norris!"

"Damn," Roderick whispered. "If she's here, Filch won't be far behind. Forget the stupid duel, let's just go."

No one needed to agree aloud. As one, they moved quietly towards the far exit, on the opposite side of where Mrs. Norris had been. Turning a corner a little way down the corridor, they heard the dreaded sound: "Don't worry, my pretty, they couldn't have gotten far." They looked at each other with wide eyes.

"I'm too young to die!" Tom said softly. The others shushed him angrily, but it was too late.

"This way!" Filch cried, and the sound of his hurried footsteps was quickly drowned out as his six would-be captives made a break for it down the passageway. Harry found himself in the lead, and took random lefts and rights, attempting to lose their pursuer.

"The door's locked!" he whispered in panic, having cut a sharp left off their course. Roderick jabbed his wand furiously at the lock while muttering "Alohamora!" and the door swung open when Harry tried the handle again. They tumbled inside, and slammed the door behind them. No one breathed until they heard Filch pound past outside, gasping and wheezing. They sagged against the door.

"What's the growling sound?" Tom asked after a little while. They all peered into the blackness, until blurry shadows began to distinguish themselves into real shapes.

"Oh my goodness," Delf breathed.

"What is that!?" Draco demanded.

"Bloody hell…" from Ron.

"Fluffy?" said Harry incredulously.

The enormous three-headed dog's three-toned growl ended in three question marks.

"What are you doing here?" Harry continued to address the dog, as it seemed to keep him moderately calm. "I thought you lived in the Forest. This isn't a good place. Everyone, back out slowly. I'll be last to keep him calm. How've you been, old boy? You've grown so much since I last saw you." Fluffy was lying spread-eagle on the floor now, grinning three big jowly grins, and wagging a gigantic tail back and forth over the floor at the far end of the hallway. Delf touched his arm to tell him everyone else was out, and Harry wrapped up his monologue with "I'll come visit again soon, alright? You be a good boy and do… whatever it is they put you here to do. Bye-bye!" As the door shut on Fluffy's three mournful faces, Harry noticed something: since when had there been a trap door in the floor of the third-storey corridor? And where could it lead? Probably not the second-floor corridor, he guessed.

Temporarily putting shock and confusion aside, Harry took a moment to regroup once he was safely out. "Where's Draco?" he asked, noticing the absence of the white-blond author of their troubles.

"He did his 'wait till I tell Father about this' routine and ran off," Roderick replied. "I don't think we'll be hearing much more from him for a little bit at least."

Harry nodded, glad of one less person he was responsible for getting safely back to their dorm.

"Well, shall we go?" he said, looking around at the others. Tom and Ron were gazing at him in slack-jawed wonder, but Roderick and Delf nodded firmly.

Tom didn't protest to the term 'escort' this time when Harry led the way back to Gryffindor Tower, taking every available shortcut and secret passageway. The Fat Lady was back, though snoozing contentedly against her frame, and it took several minutes of yelling to wake her.

Harry pulled out the Map once they were a few staircases away. "Draco got back safe," he reported. "And Tom and Ron are in bed already."

"Alright, Harry, that's fine. But do you want to explain to us what the hell happened in that corridor back there?" Delf asked. It was too dark to tell what colour her eyes were, but her voice was grave. So Harry gave her and Roderick a quick rundown of how he'd met Fluffy the previous year, and that that was how he'd gotten to be friends with Hagrid, and how he was still exactly as confused as they were as to what Fluffy was doing guarding a trapdoor in the third-floor corridor. Then he had to explain about the trapdoor, because neither of the other two had noticed it, and by the time they got back to Ravenclaw Tower, they were so thoroughly confused about what might be going on that the eagle's riddle nearly had them stumped.

Harry and Roderick bid Delf an exhausted goodnight, and the boys climbed into bed, each telling the other to remember the Quidditch tryouts the next day.

-o-

Harry didn't wake up the next day feeling particularly cheerful. His mind was still in turmoil over everything that had happened the previous night, and his sore and tired body knew it only had long hours of Quidditch ahead, even if it wasn't real practice. He cut his run short and spent more time meditating than usual before heading back to the castle for breakfast.

Quidditch tryouts were nothing new to Harry. When Lola Cole, Arthur Valentine, and Eli Lear graduated after Harry's first year on the team, tryouts at the beginning of second year had taken ages to get through. And now they needed to replace Lewis Montgomery and Finn Madden, two of the three Chasers besides Roger Davies. Delf and Roderick accompanied him to the pitch. Delf watched every game and practice (or at least met him after practice – she had things to do, after all), but Roderick had come with the intention of trying out for a place on the team.

Looking around at the gathered prospective players, Harry thought Roderick had a good chance, and told him so. He recognized almost everyone gathered: a few naïve first years, hoping to repeat Harry's own incredible record; the usual suspects who had tried out last year and even a few the year before that when Harry had first joined; there were a couple who looked promising, but only because of their relative size. The only way to tell would be up in the air. Harry joined the rest of the team in a huddle slightly apart from the hopefuls. There was fifth year Abigail Wastress, the Keeper and Captain; fourth year Chet Smith and his best friend, fifth-year Charles "Chaz" Anderson, both Beaters; Roger Davies, fourth year and sole remaining Chaser; and Harry Potter, third year, Seeker.

"Alright, everyone," Abigail began. "We're lucky this year. We don't have our first game until November, so we have plenty of time to train the newbies. Roger, we're going to be relying on you for feedback today, since we're bringing new Chasers on to work with you. We're going to break them into pairs and scrimmage for fifteen minute increments. We'll get the ones we know won't make it out of the way first. Clear?" They all nodded.

The first three-quarters of tryouts were remarkably fast. Only about a dozen people had shown up, and of those twelve, eight of them clearly couldn't handle themselves in the air. Of the remaining four, one threw the Quaffle right into Abigail's face when she tried to score, though she was otherwise excellent. One had such a terrible ego that Chet and Chaz actually had to restrain Roger from pushing him off his broom. The other two were Roderick and a pretty second year girl named Cho Chang.

Harry went up and congratulated her when everyone was safely back on the ground.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Harry Potter."

"I know," she replied, going a little pink. "You're a bit of a legend."

"Actually, that's my brother."

"No, I mean in Hogwarts; in Quidditch. I can't even think of the last person who made Seeker their first year, and I don't know if _anyone_ has ever caught _every_ Snitch they've played for."

"Thanks, that's nice of you. You did really well though," he told her warmly. "Not many people make a goal past Abigail so fast unless she's going easy."

"I think she may have been," she said, smiling.

Just then, Abigail came striding up, looking both pleased and business-like. "Hello," she said cheerfully. "Cho Chang, isn't it? I'd like to be the first to welcome you onto the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Congratulations."

The conversation was repeated with Roderick, who was thrilled, and then Delf and the rest of the spectators came down from the stands and congratulated the new Chasers all over again. Abigail said she'd draw up a practice schedule and hand it around by the end of the week before dismissing everyone.

The rest of the team and spectators returned to the castle for lunch, but Harry, Delf and Roderick headed the opposite direction, down towards Hagrid's house at the edge of the Forest.

"Oi, Hagrid!" they began yelling as they got close. Hagrid's size did not make it difficult for him to hear normal-sized people, but he could be anywhere in a five-mile radius of the place, so volume was important.

"Hullo, you lot! I'm out back!" came the reply from the other side of the cabin.

"Ah, yes, the pumpkin patch," Delf sighed. The girl's distaste for general dirty-ness was well known to the boys, who had used to make good use of it by chasing her around with clots of mud. When she learned how to use the Bat Bogey Hex on them, however, the novelty seemed to wear off quite quickly.

Hagrid was in his element in the pumpkin patch, chopping energetically at the earth with an extra-long handled hoe and scattering dragon dung fertilizer. The trio discretely covered their noses as they approached. Fang thumped his tail happily, and Delf stopped to scratch his ears.

"How're you all then?" Hagrid called.

"Alright," Harry hollered back. "How're the pumpkins coming?"

"Oh, jus' fine, jus' fine. Jus' look at 'em!" Indeed, it was hard to look at anything else. With October 31st still over a month away, some of the pumpkins had managed to reach the height of Harry's waist and the width of his spread arms. Halloween would be truly impressive this year.

"They look great, Hagrid. Hey, quick question: how's Fluffy doing these days?" Harry had made it sound off-hand, but Hagrid froze.

"Oh, er… He's alright," he said uncomfortably. The poor man was a terrible liar.

"Really? Because he didn't look too happy up in that corridor when we went to visit him."

Hagrid groaned. "I s'pose yer wouldn't tell me what ye were up to even if I asked ye."

"'Fraid not. What's he doing up there, Hagrid? He belongs in the Forest where he can run around and be a dog."

Hagrid crossed the patch reluctantly and sat on a nearby pumpkin. He wiped his face with his table-cloth sized checkered hankie and sighed. "Alright. See, it's like this: Dumbledore only let Fluffy stay on here as a special favour ter me. But Fluffy's unusual big, even fer one of them kinds, an' he was getting' to be a wee bit difficult ter hide. This summer, Dumbledore, he comes on down and says, 'Hagrid, Fluffy can stay, but he has ter earn it. I'm goin' ter keep him up at the castle guardin' somethin' special-like'."

"Guarding what?" Roderick asked eagerly.

Hagrid shook his head. "No and no. I've gone and tol' ye more than's good. The rest is personal between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel."

"Flamel?" Delf's head shot up.

"The Philosopher's Stone? That's what Fluffy's guarding?"

"Dang it, Harry, I didn't say that!"

"But that's it, isn't it? We're right?" Inspiration struck: "Is that what you were getting for Dumbledore that day from Gringotts?"

The gameskeeper groaned again. "You lot are jus' too smart fer yer own good, that's what ye are."

They had to stay for another forty-five minutes after that, reassuring Hagrid that he hadn't broken his promise to Dumbledore: they had just happened to know all the things that led them to the right answer. Then there had to be tea and more of those dangerous kettle-cakes. Then he made them all tell about their classes, and Harry and Roderick explained about the kelpies they were learning about in Care of Magical Creatures. Delf tried to explain Arithmancy to them all, but a combination of her not knowing enough about it yet and the others' disinterest led to a not-very-successful synopsis.

When they eventually managed to get back to the castle (having promised several times over not to tell anyone about Fluffy or what he was guarding), it was too late for lunch, so they headed back to the common room and got started on homework. It was still a light load this early in the year, but Cedric had warned them that it would get worse, and playing catch-up would be exhausting. Roderick and Harry copied Delf's (rather patchy) History of Magic notes while she started work on her Potions essay. Roderick made flashcards for Charms after that, while Harry and Delf tried to sort out a chart for Ancient Runes, with minimal success. Dinner time found them rather tired, so after a half-hour Transfiguration quiz, they headed to bed.

-o-

October seemed to fly past. Quidditch practice for Harry and Roderick, escalating amounts of homework for all three of them, and secretive guessing sessions about what the Philosopher's Stone was doing at Hogwarts instead of Gringotts seemed to eat up all the free time they remembered so fondly from second year. Harry snuck back to see Fluffy twice after the night of the botched duel, going once by himself and once with Delf, who liked dogs more than Roderick.

And then, all of a sudden, it was Halloween. Harry had always enjoyed Halloween at Hogwarts because it had been such a welcome change from the Crescent Galas he had always had to attend with his family to memorialize the end of the War (and celebrate Tom's role in ending it). And this year Harry and the rest of the third years were especially excited, because the day after Halloween would be their first Hogsmeade trip. The castle looked even more festive than it had in past years: suits of armour were enchanted so that their helmets turned and seemed to watch your progress down the hallway; Peeves became an absolute menace, and the Bloody Baron constantly had to be on hand to control him; Hagrid's pumpkins lined the Great Hall like enormous orange coaches, each with a candle inside as large as a student with wicks as thick as their arms, and all expertly carved. There was a particular favorite done in the likeness of the Potions Master, though Harry noticed that one didn't stay long. Harry wondered how much the Weasley twins had had to do with its creation and decided it was better not to know. The teachers were lenient about homework for the most part, with the noticeable exceptions of Professor Snape and Professor Binns. No one could focus very well on classwork that day, and Professor Flitwick gave them a free hour to do with what they wished.

The Halloween Feast was amazing: thousands upon thousands of wax candles floated above the tables, their light and heat belaying the rumbling sky above. Harry hoped the weather would be nice for the Hogsmeade trip the next day, but had a bad feeling about it as he and Delf and Roderick trooped into the Great Hall after dumping their stuff in their dorms. The pumpkins were lit and a few skeletons wandered the Hall, scaring one poor first-year Hufflepuff nearly out of her wits.

The trio grinned and waved at everyone they knew, but didn't stop till they were seated at the top of the Ravenclaw table, eagerly awaiting the Feast. It took a frustratingly long time for all the students and teachers to assemble, and Harry's stomach was cramping angrily. He had eaten a light lunch in preparation for that evening, and now he was ravenous.

Finally, finally, _finally_ , the food appeared. But before Harry could so much as think of what he wanted to eat first, the huge doors at the end of the Hall banged open and Professor Quirrell staggered in.

"TROLL! IN THE DUNGEON! Thought you ought to…know…" He fell forward in a dead faint. The Hall was shocked to muteness for about three seconds, but then pandemonium broke loose. Students screamed and a few began crying; teachers leapt up and tried to impose some order; Peeves cackled in the rafters, pelting everyone with buttery mashed potatoes.

"SILENCE!" Dumbledore roared from the top of the Hall. To Harry's everlasting shock, he was obeyed, though one girl kept sniffling at the far end of the Slytherin table. "Prefects, please escort the students of your house directly back to the dorms. No one is to leave there until specifically allowed to do so by me or their head of house. Dismissed."

Slightly shell-shocked, the students rose as one and filed out after their Prefects like obedient ducklings.

They were just to the point where the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins split off to head to their subterranean dorms when Roderick dug a sharp elbow into Harry's ribs. "Look," he hissed. "What're your brother and Ron doing with the Ravenclaws?" Craning around the head of a gigantic sixth year, Harry could just see an incriminating flash of orange hair disappear around a corner, and Tom scuttle after.

"Crud," he mumbled. It wasn't even a question whether they would go after them or not. The idiots went to trouble like moths to light, and were not so very good at getting away in time to not be burned. Harry spotted 6th year Prefect Matthew Chambers and waved him down.

"I think I just saw a couple first-years go off down the wrong way. Is it okay if we go get them?" Harry asked, adding just the right note of competence to his voice.

"Yes, please, go," Matthew said seriously. "This is a madhouse. Bring them back when you have them." Harry smiled. He and Delf and Roderick were known for being responsible, rule-abiding students. It wasn't exactly an accurate character sketch, but it was certainly convenient from time to time.

The three of them split off down the turn Tom and Ron had taken, following intuition most of the time and echoing footsteps whenever they heard any. It didn't take long for them to figure out that either their intuition was off, or they'd been following someone else's occasional echoing footsteps.

"This way!" Harry said, following what he was sure were the sounds of footsteps and shouting—

"OW!" he turned the corner and run _smack_! into Professor McGonagall, causing Delf and Roderick to run into him, and Professors Quirrell and Snape to in turn crash into her.

"Potter!" she exclaimed, picking herself up out of the mess of limbs and confusion and robes.

"Sorry, ma'am!" he exclaimed, holding a hand to his temple where it had hit her chin.

"What are you doing out here? You're supposed to be in your dormitory!"

"That's right ma'am, but you see, I – Roderick and Delf and I – saw my brother and Ron Weasley run off from the group as we were leaving the Great Hall. Our Prefect told us to find them, but we got a bit turned around and lost them. We thought you were them when we heard you running."

"Your brother's running around with a mountain troll on the loose?" Professor Snape sounded alarmed, but not surprised.

Harry nodded seriously. "Yes, sir."

"Come then." McGonagall took over, rubbing her chin. "You're looking for your brother and we're looking for the troll, and you'll be safer if you stay with us. I just pray they are not in the same place."

Harry nodded, and the three students fell in behind the three professors.

"Don't lay it on too think," Roderick murmured. "We want them to trust us, not adopt us."

"Shut up," Delf whispered back. "Harry did perfectly." Roderick rolled his eyes.

Several hallways, two staircases, and innumerable turns later, a resounding _CRASH!_ brought them to a girls' lavatory. Professors and students alike crowded around the door to see what had exploded, and saw with some shock, that instead of a large pile of debris and smoke, there was an unconscious mountain troll on the ground and three surprised-looking but unhurt first years named Tom, Ron, and Hermione standing around. 'How did Hermione get involved in all this?' Harry wondered. They all looked a bit bug-eyed, and Tom was holding his wand, which was covered all over in gloopy gray slime. Snape bent to examine the troll while Quirrel sank down onto a toilet, looking a bit faint. McGonagall towered over the three first-years. "What on _earth_ were you thinking of?" Even though the words were not aimed at Harry, he felt his spine stiffen and he shuffled a little distance away from the irate Transfiguration Mistress. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

"Please, Professor McGonagall!" A small voice quavered. Harry leaned around McGonagall and saw that it was Hermione speaking. Finally, someone would explain something properly. "They were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!" McGonagall sounded affronted.

"I went looking for the troll because I—I thought I would deal with it on my own—you know, because I've read all about them." Tom and Ron gave each other flabbergasted looks, which they quickly (and badly) hid. Harry narrowed his eyes at the Gryffindor trio. Was Hermione _lying_ to get the boys out of trouble? She was more of a Gryffindor than he had thought after all. "If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Tom stuck his wand up its nose—" That explained the gray glop all over his wand, though it was far more disgusting than Harry really wanted to think about. "—and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Tom and Ron were nodded along very earnestly, but Harry was more sure than ever that that was a big fat fabrication. Clearly the wand up the nose bit was true, but the rest of the premise? Highly unlikely.

"Well—in that case…" McGonagall didn't sound like she quite knew what to do. But she rallied: "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?" Hermione ducked her head. "Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this. I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses." Harry felt Roderick perk up at his side. Indeed, Harry was glad to hear it too.

As Hermione crept out, McGonagall took on Tom and Ron. "Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years would have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points." Harry rolled his eyes. This would not help Tom's ego one bit. "Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go." Tom and Ron scampered out, completely missing Harry, Roderick and Delf tucked in behind Professor Mcgonagall. Harry was glad for that: now he had something Tom didn't know he knew. Hermione was a liar, and Tom and Ron were liars by omission for going along with her.

"Now, what to do with you three?" McGonagall wondered aloud to the Ravenclaws once the first years were gone.

They glanced at each other nervously. "Why should anything be done with us three?" Harry asked, hoping she was bluffing.

"Well, for one thing, you disobeyed a direct order from the Headmaster for you to go straight to your dormitories, did you not? And without the rather auspicious result of knocking out a full-grown mountain troll, I see no reason to offer leniency, do you, Professor Snape?"

Harry looked desperately to Snape. He couldn't get in trouble for this, he just _couldn't_! Not when Tom hadn't! "Perhaps, Professor McGonagall, given the circumstance that Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy and Miss Greengrass acted strictly out of concern for Mr Potter's brother, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger's safety, and had permission from their Prefect besides, it might be appropriate to let them off this time. They are model pupils, after all." Snape looked right at Harry as he said this last, black eyes locking on green, and Harry felt a shiver slip over his spine. Snape knew more about Harry than he was letting on. But he wouldn't say anything. He had just saved them, after all.

"For goodness' sake, Severus, I was joking," Professor McGonagall snapped. "These three did nothing wrong. In fact, ten points to Ravenclaw." Harry, Roderick and Delf sagged against one another in relief. "Now go. Back to your dormitories, where you _should_ have been some time ago."

"Yes, ma'am!" Harry said just as Delf promised, "Right away!" and Roderick said fervently, "Thank you."

Professor McGonagall chortled. "Be off with you," she said kindly, and the three Ravenclaws took off for their Tower, their feast, and sleep.

-o-

The next morning at Potter Manor, the post bore a surprise.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

"Oh, James, come here, Tom wrote us a letter!"

_As I'm sure you've heard, I was recently involved in an incident with a mountain troll._

"Oh, dear, that must be what this letter from Dumbledore's about…"

_It was very dangerous and we barely got away, but I had to save Hermione, so we eventually managed to knock it out._

"He's a Gryffindor through and through, that boy." James shook his head affectionately.

_The teachers arrived just in time to see it hit the ground. I know you'll be upset, Mum, about me putting myself in danger like that,_

"Darn right, I'm upset! I don't care if he's a Gryffindor 'through and through', he's still in trouble!"

_but before you get mad, you should know that Harry has a tattoo._

"WHAT?"

_Love, Tom_

_PS it's giant._

"I know this is Sirius' fault somehow."

_PPS it's a Hungarian Horntail on his left shoulder and arm._

"And, by extension, _yours,_ dear." James tried to slink from the room with a rather worried and confused and proud expression on his face.

_PPPS school is going great otherwise._

"That boy is SO DEAD!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
> DANG IT, TOM!  
> So, a few changes from canon: Quirrel is the new professor rather than Charity Burbage, just because that was easier; I redesigned the Ravenclaw common room (mainly because I flat-out forgot we saw it in book seven, oops...); you get to choose your Animagi form. I never got the idea from canon that your form was innate in the same way a Patronus is, so I changed it; the Ravenclaw Quidditch team are all OCs except for Cho, even though we have a roster for at least one of the years. There are going to be other details like that as we go along, and I'm just gonna ask that you go along with it for the sake of the story. :)  
> Chapter 4 "Harry Gets a Howler"...
> 
>  
> 
> Half credit for this story goes to my friend fire1: we developed and outlined this idea together and there's no way it would exist without her. Go check her page out!  
> All characters are owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros, etc.  
> E.I. signing out


	4. Harry Gets a Howler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4: Harry Gets a Howler  
> Two more next Sunday.   
> Fire1

_Harry Gets a Howler_

Hogsmeade was all Harry, Roderick and Delf could talk about as they went down to breakfast the next morning. What would they do first? The Shrieking Shack? Honeydukes? The Three Broomsticks? Everything at once? How much money should they bring? One Galleon? Five Galleons? Ten? All of it? By the time they got to the Great Hall, they were spluttering with laughter at their ridiculous plans, and couldn't wait to get started on them.

Then the post owls arrived.

A fat, red letter fell onto Harry's omelet.

"Uh-oh," Roderick mumbled around a mouthful of sausage.

"Wait. Why am _I_ getting a Howler? Tom's the one who took on a troll!"

"Harry, you should open that: it looks angry," Delf advised, setting her orange juice aside and looking distrustfully at the smoking envelope. But it was too late.

"TATTOO? DRAGON? All over your shoulder and arm?"

The whole Great Hall was suddenly looking at Harry. He buried his face in his palms.

_"How could you even think that would be ok? I know Sirius is a bad influence, but you should have more common sense! You are MY SON as well, after all, not just your father's!"_

In the background, they could vaguely hear James trying to cut in, but Lily drowned him right out.

"I ought to suspend your Hogsmeade visits, so help me, I should! Be thankful your father stopped me!"

"Like you guys have been any kind of parents," Harry mumbled into his hands, swearing he'd sic the twins on Tom next chance he got.

"And how could you let your brother face a TROLL!?"

Harry threw his hands in the air. "Are you joking!?"

"I'll see you at Christmas break, young man, so don't think you've heard the end of this!"

And with that, the Howler burst into violent flames.

"Tom, you evil git!" Harry yelled across the silent Great Hall. Before Tom could say anything, however, a chorus of female voices cut in:

"Can we see the tattoo?"

Caught off his guard, Harry stood dumb for a second before catching the cold glares from the teacher's table. "Later," he mumbled to whoever could hear, blushing bright red as he sank back into his seat. After breakfast, which was tense, Harry retreated to his dorm and did homework alone on his bed until it was time to go to Hogsmeade.

Harry was grateful for Delf and Roderick on the walk down to the village. They walked close on either side of him, protecting him from curious glances and questions from strangers. Was this how Tom felt all the time? If so, stuff fame. Who needed it? It felt like he was suffocating.

They headed out to the Shrieking Shack first, since no one else wanted to go there before being fortified by the cheer and laugher of Zonko's or the Three Broomsticks.

"Brr," said Delf, stamping her feet. "Being out here away from the town somehow makes it seem even colder. And talk about atmosphere," she added, throwing a look behind her at the Shack.

"Most haunted place in England," Roderick said cheerfully. "I want to live there one day."

"I know someone who went in there, actually," Harry said, and anticipated the pleasure he would take in wiping clear their skeptical expressions.

"What, at a dare? Who cares?" Roderick said peevishly.

"No, not at a dare. He went in there a whole bunch of times, actually. Many times a year."

"Oh, right. Now you're having one on us," Delf said flatly.

"You know him, as a matter of fact," Harry went on blithely. He grinned as they furrowed their brows as they tried to think of who it might be. "He used to go to Hogwarts, and he went in there regularly with some of his friends."

"So it was like a super spooky clubhouse?"

"Sort of. Want to know who it is?"

"No, I want to sit here wondering who in the world I could possibly know who might have been repeatedly visiting the Shrieking Shack with his friends. Of course we want to know!" Delf said sarcastically.

Harry turned to his other friend with exaggerated politeness. "Roderick, do you want to know?" The other boy rolled his grey eyes and nodded impatiently.

"My Uncle Remus."

"You're joking," Delf said after a moment.

"Am not," Harry countered.

"But he's so… I dunno, nice. Unassuming."

"Yeah, but you forget the friends I mentioned were my dad and Uncle Sirius and Peter Pettigrew." Harry had grown up to hate the traitorous man behind the name, but it wouldn't do to leave him out.

"That explains it."

"But why did they go in there all the time? I mean, sure, it's nervy to do it once or twice, at a dare or to impress someone, but why over and over?" Delf wanted to know.

Harry glanced around. This was the very, very secret part. He trusted his friends with his life, but not whoever might be eavesdropping.

"Uncle Remus used to have to go there every month for all the time he was at Hogwarts. He would go in alone until my dad and Sirius and Pettigrew could go with him."

Delf frowned. "Every month?"

"Did he get bad cramps?" Roderick inquired sympathetically. Delf punched him in the shoulder before Harry even understood the joke.

"Oh, I see. No, you're a moron. He's a werewolf." He didn't say this as lightly as it seemed on the surface. He'd gotten his uncle's permission beforehand, and only asked because keeping such a significant secret from his two best friends had started to feel a lot like lying, especially since they both knew and liked Remus a lot.

"Oh!" That shut Roderick up.

"Why did we never know that?"

"I don't know. But then, who's going to ever say 'Oh, and that Remus Lupin, he's a werewolf, in case you were wondering'. No."

Roderick looked thoughtful. "Why were your dad and Professor Black and Pettigrew allowed to go with him? I doubt they were immune or anything like that."

"They became Animagi. Remember that time Uncle Sirius transformed for the class in first year?" Now that the big main secret was out, all the little secrets tangled up with it had to come out too, and Harry felt light enough to fly without a broom.

"They've been Animagi since they were at Hogwarts? Is that even possible?"

"Sure. Given the right books and a lot of time and dedication, anyone could do it. I bet I could even find my dad's old notes about it in the library at home."

Roderick's eyes lit up. "I bet we could do it!" he said eagerly. "We've got the same resources they did, and I bet we're smarter."

"Don't let them hear you say that," Harry laughed, though he privately agreed.

"I wonder what I would be," Delf wondered dreamily.

"No, you get to pick what you are," Harry clarified.

"I would want to fly," said Roderick firmly. "There's nothing any land animal could do better than a human except run and smell things."

"I disagree with you on that, but I think I'd like to fly too," Harry approved.

"Eugh, no thanks," Delf shuddered. "I'll be perfectly content to keep myself firmly planted on the ground, thanks all the same."

"Come on, flying really isn't that bad," Roderick cajoled playfully.

"You try nearly getting your best friend killed the first time you fly and then tell me how you feel," she snapped back.

"Well, I'm fine, so no harm no foul. And flying as a bird would be a lot different than flying on a broom. It'd be like walking, or running, right?"

"Hmm." She looked unconvinced.

"What kind of bird would you be, Harry?"

"I don't know…. Something sort of common so that people wouldn't notice me up there. Not like a sparrow though. Like… a crow maybe, or a raven."

"I'd be an owl. How brilliant would night flying be?"

"Very brilliant," Harry agreed. "But you could only do it at night unless you wanted a letter strapped to your leg whenever you wanted to go out."

"Good point. I still definitely think we should try this though."

"Of course we should. Harry, you should be a dragon, like your tattoo!" Delf said excitedly.

"No, stupid, the point of being an Animagi is to sneak around! Can you imagine trying to be inconspicuous as a giant fire-breathing lizard?" Roderick asked scornfully.

"It was just an idea," Delf said sniffily.

"Speaking of my tattoo though, people will still want to see it," Harry said glumly. "I can't believe Tom actually went and told Mum."

"Yeah. That was a jackarse thing to do."

"But if you don't mind going to your execution early, it's freezing out here, so…" Delf trailed off, but the gist was clear.

"Fine, let's go. I want to try Butterbeer sometime today anyway."

They turned away from the Shack and began the trek back to town. The sky was a clear, frozen blue, and the trio was extremely cold, even with no snow on the ground yet. Conversation returned to the topic of possible Animagi forms, but the boys stopped trying to convince Delf that being a bird would be more amazing than anything else as they got closer to town. Harry was unhappily anticipating the attention he was about to be subjected to when he suddenly felt two pairs of hands seize him from behind and drag him into a nearby alleyway.

Delf and Roderick looked startled, he saw, but then they grinned, so Harry was not unduly alarmed.

"Right," said Fred as he and his brother released the rumpled Ravenclaw.

"Your brother," George went on.

"What do you want done to him?"

"Because he must have his comeuppance."

"You're _offering_ to do something? I haven't even asked yet."

"But you were going to, as you just admitted."

"Anyway, Harry, listen: he may be a Gryffindor, but you are our friend."

"And he needs to learn that it is unacceptable to rat out brothers."

Harry thought for a moment. "I want his hair to be Ravenclaw colors for the rest of term, except when there's a Quidditch game, when it needs to be green and silver."

The twins grinned and nodded, and said in unison, "Done."

Feeling much happier (and avenged) with that out of the way, Harry led the way to the Three Broomsticks, where they all ordered Butterbeers and took a booth by the window. Over the next half hour, about two dozen people (mainly girls) came up and asked to see Harry's tattoo. He obliged each and every one, and eventually decided it was easier to just keep his robes off and only deal with his shirt.

It took some time for him to realize Delf was aiming her famed and feared bright orange glare directly at him, but once he did, he put his robes on straight away and stopped showing people. Her eyes began slowly slipping back towards brown after that, to his relief. Roderick and the twins wouldn't tell him why they were laughing so hard.

After that, they made a loop of Zonko's, Honeydukes, and a few other Places of Interest before deciding they were far too cold and heading back to the castle. Hogsmeade, they decided, had quite lived up to their expectations.

-o-

The days passed placidly (except for poor Tom, whose hair remained stubbornly blue and bronze, no matter what he did) and got colder and colder as the month went on. Their first Quidditch game of the season approached, and as it did, the practice regiment got worse. Abigail upped it to three nights a week, including Wednesdays, when Harry and Roderick had Astronomy. It was true that he had a free hour after Ancient Runes to get his work done, but practice started at 6 and Astronomy at 8, and they overlapped with growing frequency.

This particular Wednesday was one such situation. It was 8:10, and that prat Roderick had got out of practice early by asking to 'use the loo' at 7:45. The dirty liar hadn't come back, and now Harry was running late as punishment because Abigail had lectured him about the importance of loyalty to the team and all that nonsense.

'Late, late, late, late, late…' was the mantra in his head as he pounded up stairways, along hallways, along more halls, through this secret passage and that one, up another staircase, but miss _that_ step— If he was lucky, he could make it by 8:20.

"But Master, must we keep drinking it?"

Harry screeched to a halt outside of the door to a random classroom that stood slightly ajar. Professor Quirrell?

"Surely the one dose was enough to last until the boy can get the Stone for us."

Who was he talking to? Dose of what? 'Stone'? 'Boy'?

"No! No, of course not, it's just it's becoming difficult – yes. No. I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

Dumbledore. He would know what to do with whatever was going on here. Though Harry bore the man no special affection, he did have to admit that Dumbledore was extremely intelligent.

All thoughts of Astronomy, Roderick, and Quidditch forgotten, Harry took off at a dead run for the professor's lounge. Though Dumbledore probably wouldn't be there, someone who knew the way to his office would be. He sprinted now, his bag banging painfully on his thigh and his broom bouncing awkwardly across his shoulder. Of course the stupid place had to be most of the way across the castle…

"I'm sorry," he said loudly as the door banged open. Several teachers looked up in shock at the sudden and noisy intrusion, including Professors Sprout and Snape.

"Professor," Harry gasped, limping up to the latter (he had tripped on the last staircase and banged his knee quite hard). "Please, I need to see the Headmaster. I have something to tell him. Can you take me to his office?" Snape looked at him appraisingly for a moment, taking in the broom, the bag, his heavy breathing, the limp, and the wide-eyed and desperate sincerity of the question. He rose smoothly from his desk, leaving a pile of ungraded seventh-year essays behind.

"Come then," he said, striding past Harry to the still-open door. Deeply relieved, Harry hobbled after him, thinking that, truth to tell, he would be just as happy if Snape was in charge and could deal with whatever was going on. He, unlike Dumbledore, didn't blatantly favour Tom. Quite the opposite in fact.

"What's happening?" Snape asked as soon as they were a couple corners away from the professor's lounge.

"I overheard Professor Quirrel talking to someone – I don't know who, I couldn't hear – I think about getting the Philosopher's Stone."

Snape glanced at him sharply, black eyes narrowed. "What do you know about that?"

"That it's here in the castle for some reason because Hagrid got it out of Gringotts this summer. He didn't tell me though: my friends and I just figured it out."

"It must be convenient to have such clever companions," Snape noted sarcastically. "However, I would warn you about sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong."

Chastened, but determined to tell Dumbledore everything he had heard even at the expense of his few rule-breakings coming to light, Harry followed Snape the rest of the way in silence.

They finally came upon a statue of an intensely ugly gargoyle. Snape mumbled a word or two which Harry couldn't hear, and the statue leapt aside, revealing a tightly curving staircase inside the wall. Snape stepped in first, gesturing for Harry to follow. As soon as the statue had settled back into place behind them, the staircase began to revolve and rise, taking its two occupants up what felt like several stories.

Snape stepped off the stairs into a small chamber with a large wooden door directly opposite them. He rapped on it quickly, and stood away as it swung open.

"Enter," came Dumbledore's voice. Harry followed the Potions Master into Dumbledore's office. He had never been in before, and he looked around with interest. Dozens of spindly little devices stood on tables around the room, some belching many-coloured smoke; a large cabinet stood against the far wall; a gorgeous phoenix in full plumage perched on a stand and groomed itself; the Sorting Hat sat on a high shelf behind the Headmaster's desk. Dumbledore sat behind that same desk, with the pages of that morning's _Daily Prophet_ spread in front of him. He leaned back in his chair and peered at the two of them over his half-moon spectacles.

"Good evening, Severus. Hello, Mr Potter. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Mr Potter has some information concerning the Philosopher's Stone he wishes to tell you," Snape said succinctly, and turned the floor over to Harry. Dumbledore had sat up and was looking much more alert.

"Er," Harry said, not getting off to a very good start. He hadn't expected Snape to get to the point quite so quickly. "I was just going up from Quidditch practice to Astronomy when I heard Professor Quirrell talking to someone in this classroom. He asked whoever it was if they had to take another 'dose' of something because he thought one was enough to last until 'the boy' could get the Stone. I think 'the boy' was supposed to be Tom. He said something was becoming difficult, and then he apologized to the person. Then I went right to the professor's lounge and Professor Snape brought me here."

Dumbledore was inspecting his steepled fingers. "And why did this strike you as something I would want to hear about?"

"Well – because – it's obvious, isn't it?" Harry felt badly off-balance. It was clearly important! "Professor Quirrell is trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone! He's working with someone else in the castle to get it, or maybe force my brother to get it."

"Mr Potter, I don't know how you know the things you seem to, and I'm not going to reprimand you for having found them out. However, I would like to assure you that myself and the teachers at this school have the situation completely under control specifically so that students like you can focus on their studies rather than chasing rumours and stories. You may rest easy that your brother is perfectly safe."

"Headmaster, I think—" Snape began, but Dumbledore cut him off:

"Severus." A look passed between the men that Harry didn't understand, but was obviously charged with secret communication. Snape broke away first, looking dissatisfied. Dumbledore returned his attention to Harry: "Your concern is admirable, Mr Potter, but unnecessary. I'm going to ask you to carry on to Astronomy – where you are doubtlessly missed – and think no more on this subject. Severus will show you out."

"But—!" Snape laid a hand on his shoulder and Harry fell quiet, feeling angry and confused and unfulfilled. Dumbledore had turned back to his newsprint, and Harry was suddenly aware of his knee throbbing and the sweat in his hair and the effort and worry he had put in to giving Dumbledore this information that was so perfectly crystal-clearly vital. His anger became a leaden lump in his belly as he followed Snape out of the office into the rotating stairs. Dumbledore might be very intelligent, but he was also a useless old codger sometimes.

Snape turned to face him when they were back outside the gargoyle. He was no less beaky and foreboding than usual, but he looked strangely sympathetic, and Harry was encouraged to try again.

"You think it's important, don't you? Can you try and tell Professor Dumbledore? I know you think Tom's a perfect prat, and he is, but he still might be in danger."

But whatever he had seen in Snape's face was gone. Instead of expressing agreement or encouragement, he said "I trust you know how to get to the Astronomy Tower from here." Then he turned on his heel and walked away, his robes flapping around him.

Furious all over again, Harry stalked after him. Snape turned at the corner and said, "You are not helping your case." He sounded condescending and frustrated.

"This is the way to class," Harry responded coldly.

Snape's expression did not change. "Carry on then."

Repressing a smirk, Harry limped off towards Ravenclaw Tower, figuring that an hour's lateness would be too difficult to explain. Besides, he was exhausted and had so much in his head he didn't think a single fact about Orion or Mars or whatever could possibly fit.

He took a shower when he got back to his dorm after stowing his broom and class materials. His encounter with Dumbledore had left him on-edge and somehow nervous. To be brushed off and ignored like that! It was one thing to be overshadowed by Tom's fame. Everyone did that and he was perfectly accustomed to it. But to be blatantly shoved aside when he had information that was palpably significant was infuriating. And though he hated to admit it, he had thought Dumbledore would listen specifically because what Harry had overheard related to his brother.

He paced the length of his dorm like a caged Hippogriff, waiting not-quite patiently for his friends to get in from class. Roderick would not get the drubbing he deserved, at least not right now.

Roderick at least had the grace to look nervous as he poked his white-blond head around the dormitory door.

"Good, you're finally here! Quick, drop your stuff: I have to talk to you and Delf." Somewhat startled, Roderick did as he was bid as Andrew, Will, and Jeremy trooped in.

"Is everything clear? Roderick said you'd be hexing his bits off so we should wait," Jeremy asked.

"When we didn't hear screaming we figured it was alright," Will added helpfully.

"I've decided bit-hexing will happen later. You all can go to bed or whatever," Harry said over his shoulder as he dragged Roderick out of the dorm. He deposited his confused friend in front of the fire in the alcove under the girls' dorms before dashing up the stairs that led to the girls' room that corresponded with their own. Kelly Middlebrow answered when he knocked on the door, and burst into a flurry of giggles when he asked for Delf.

"Beverly, is Daphne in the loo? Her boyfriend wants her."

Harry peered over her shoulder anxiously, completely missing the jab. The girls' rooms were more or less identical to the boys', only neater and, well, girlier. Amanda Long and Helen Cybele sat on one bed, Amanda brushing Helen's hair. He had gone to school with these girls for over two years, but he didn't know them very well. Amanda had moved from Australia when she was ten and had a much older brother; Helen was the only Muggle-born in Delf's dorm; Beverly was extremely allergic to tomatoes. But it was trivia, not knowledge.

"She's just got in the shower," echoed Beverly Moore's voice from the half-open door to the toilet.

Kelly turned back to him. "Sorry, out of luck. Can I do anything instead?" She raised her eyebrow and sort of stuck her hip out as she said this, and Harry recoiled reflexively.

"Just tell her to please come down to the fire when she's out. I have something to tell her."

Saying that last part may have been an error in judgment, he thought, as the door closed behind him on a renewed bout of giggles.

He didn't respond to Roderick's questions when he joined him in front of the fire, instead sitting in a stony silence and trying to figure out how he was going to explain everything that had happened instead of Astronomy. Delf appeared fifteen minutes later, wearing a nightgown and dressing gown with her hair in a sopping wet braid down her back.

"I can't stand them," she announced, plopping down between the boys and laying her head on Harry's shoulder. "'Daphne, Daphne, your _boyfriend_ has something to tell you'," she made her voice high and squeaky to mock them. "'Should I have just sent him into the loo to get you from the shower?' Morons." She snorted contemptuously. Harry put his arm around her shoulders and gave her an understanding squeeze.

"We sympathize dear, but your dormitory troubles, while interesting to those involved, are not the main event. I want to know why Harry is keeping us up and away from our beds, where I would give anything to be right now." Roderick suppressed a yawn. It was sometimes difficult to tell with Roderick, but Harry was pretty sure he was serious this time.

"I overheard Professor Quirrell talking to someone about getting Tom to steal the Philosopher's Stone." Harry thought getting to the point would be the most effective, and he was not disappointed.

Delf's head jerked up just as Roderick said "What?" rather loudly. It was unusual to find the Ravenclaw common room empty at any time, and 12:15 on a Wednesday night was no exception. A gaggle of sixth year study-buddies looked up disapprovingly, and a seventh year boy started awake and looked around guiltily before bending back over his parchment. A fifth year girl shushed them before going back to her book.

"Are you serious?" Delf whispered.

"Yeah. I was running past that set of classrooms on the fourth floor that never get used and I heard him say something to someone he called 'Master'. I think I forgot to mention that bit to Dumbledore…"

"You went to the Headmaster?" Roderick sounded skeptical.

"Yes, I know you know I don't like him, and I haven't randomly started to. But he is in charge around here, and I figured he would know what to do. But I haven't even finished, so shut up."

"Yes, sir," Roderick said, but less sarcastically than usual.

"He said something along the lines of 'one dose should last until we can get the boy to give us the Stone'. I assumed 'the boy' was Tom, because who else is going to be called that around here? And 'the Stone' could only be one thing."

"One dose of what?" Roderick asked.

"He didn't mention. After that he said something was becoming difficult, and then he said yes and no a couple times, and then he apologized."

"To who?" Delf wanted to know.

"I don't know. His 'Master', I assume. I couldn't hear the other person."

"What did you do then?" Roderick prompted.

"I ran straight off to the professor's lounge. Banged my knee along the way, too." He pulled up the leg of his pajamas to reveal a large purple bruise blooming across his kneecap.

"Oh, Harry!" Delf gasped, putting a hand to her mouth as her eyes dissolved from their standard brown to hazel, which represented worry or concern, as Harry had deduced some time ago. Roderick looked impressed.

"It's not actually that bad. I feel like it hasn't grown into itself yet." He carried on, giving them a quick rundown of finding Snape and going to Dumbledore's office, and everything that had happened there.

"What a git," Roderick said as soon as Harry was done, which pretty much summed up Harry's feelings as well.

"Yeah, but listen: he practically admitted something bad is going on. You don't have to 'control' something that's going well, and a 'situation' is never good. And the only time I've ever heard someone say something is 'perfectly safe' is whenever the twins want to do something." Delf and Roderick chuckled.

"But then… what do we do?" Delf asked after a short silence. "Dumbledore's clearly not paying attention to the warning signs."

"I think we just have to pay really close attention. Especially to Tom, as much as I hate to say it. Quirrell is up to something with someone, and Tom can't handle real life, as amazing as he thinks he is."

"Harry…" Delf moaned. "Your brother seems to actually make an effort to get into trouble. He's scarcely been here three months and he's already tried to duel Draco and taken on a mountain troll. How on earth can we make him… not?"

"No clue," Harry said glumly. "But it's going to reek."

They said their goodnights shortly thereafter. There wasn't much more to talk about. It was only once he was in bed and Roderick was snoring that he realized he had forgotten to tell them that Quirrell still made his scar ache.

-o-

The days dragged on. Nothing much came of their decision to keep Tom out of trouble. He seemed to be trying to keep a low profile after the duel incident. Either that or he was plotting something, as Delf was quick to point out. But that was too alarming to think about, and they ignored the possibility.

The Saturday of the weekend before the first Ravenclaw Quidditch match dawned frosty and bright. Harry had a lot of catch-up work to do for Transfiguration and Herbology, so he had a large breakfast and skipped out on lunch.

"Are you sure you don't want us to bring you something, Harry? I heard it's bad to study on an empty stomach."

"No, thanks anyway, Delf. If I get hungry later, I'll visit the kitchens. I really need to finish these root diagrams."

"Speaking of which, could I see those later? I didn't exactly finish mine either," Roderick said, grinning. Delf rolled her eyes, and they went to lunch together, leaving Harry to the misery of memorizing the growth patterns of hemlock roots.

Five minutes later or so, he felt a light tap on his shoulder, and turned (cracking his stiff neck as he did so) to find Cho Chang standing behind him.

"Cho! Hi, how are you?" he asked, correcting his slouch and gesturing for her to sit next to him.

"Oh, I'm fine. I was actually hoping you could help me with something," she said with a hopeful smile as she slid into the chair beside his. "A friend of mine told me you're a really good student, and I thought that since I already know you, it wouldn't be weird if I were to ask you for help."

"Erm… sure," Harry said dubiously. It was true he got almost only O's and E's, but he by no means considered himself an authority worthy of teaching anyone anything. Besides, Cho made him nervous. He still thought she was very pretty, and he had been flattered when she complimented him at the tryouts. It was true they were on the Quidditch team together, but the pitch was hardly an easy place to foster casual conversation. All in all, Harry wasn't quite sure what to do.

"It's this Potions essay," she explained eagerly, pulling some parchment out of her bag. "It's supposed to be ten inches long, and I just can't get it past seven. There's only so much to say about Burmslang skin compared to essence of Hippogriff tears."

"Yeah, I remember this essay from last year. It was one of the worst ones he assigned," he said absently, scanning her neat cursive rows. "Ah, here we go. You haven't discussed how they act when you put them together."

"Oh." She blinked. "And… what does happen when you put them together?" she inquired, glancing up at him through her lashes.

Harry chucked and spent the next fifteen minutes explaining in extensive detail the reaction and effects of putting the two potent ingredients together. By the end of it, he had gotten sidetracked and was enjoying her laughter as he described one poor Hufflepuff's attempts at a Shrinking Draught, which, when Snape made him drink it, turned his ears and nose purple.

"He had to stay in the Hospital Wing for a week because he couldn't remember what he put in the potion, so Madam Pomfrey didn't know what to give him!"

"That's terrible," she gasped, giggling.

"Yeah, we all felt pretty bad for laughing," Harry chuckled.

"I can imagine," Cho agreed, finally getting a grip on her laughter. In the short silence that followed, Harry suddenly couldn't figure out what to look at. Would she think he was staring if he looked at her for too long? Would she think he wasn't interested if he didn't look at her long enough? How long was it okay to look at someone before it became weird? _Why were his eyes suddenly so difficult?_ What had Uncle Sirius said last year in France when he was teaching Harry to talk to women? _"When in doubt, make eye-contact. It makes them think you're interested, even if you're bored stiff."_

"Were you nervous before your first game?" Cho asked suddenly. Harry accidentally looked at her and their eyes met. Heat built in his face, and he dropped his gaze. Another mistake: now she would think he was looking at the various bits of anatomy under her blouse.

Staring steadfastly across the room out the window, he answered, "Yes, of course I was. I thought I was going to embarrass myself in front of the whole school. I thought Arthur Valentine – he was the Captain when I first joined – I thought he had made some terrible mistake and I was just going to totally flub it and everyone would be so disappointed in me. I nearly threw up."

"Wow. But you're so amazing. Everyone wishes they could play like you. I know I do."

"Er, well, thanks. I really enjoy it."

"Yeah, but not everyone who enjoys playing Quidditch catches the Snitch in – what was it? Fifteen seconds?"

"Oh yeah, that time. I'm still convinced I cheated somehow."

"Cheated on who?" asked Delf. Harry spun around.

"Delf, Roderick! I didn't hear you come in. How was lunch?"

"Fine," said Roderick, his neutral tone belaying the lively interest in his eyes. Interest in what? Harry wondered nervously. When Roderick got that look it usually meant he knew something important and wasn't going to tell what it was until the damage was done.

"Cheated on who?" Delf said again, and when Harry snuck a glance at her eyes, they were hazel with a ring of orange at the outside. Angry but worried? Worried about what? Angry at whom? Whatever this was, it boded ill.

"We were talking about Quidditch. Remember that game that was over in twenty seconds?"

"You're too modest: you make it sound like you had nothing to do with it," Cho said lightly.

"Hmm," Delf said as if she hadn't heard. "And how are your root diagrams going, Harry?" she asked, perching on the arm of Harry's chair and peering over his shoulder. "Oh yes, the Boomslang skin versus Hippogriff tears essay. Did the assignment change since last year? I remember it being ten inches and this can't be more than six. Perhaps you should describe what happens when you combine them."

"That's what I was just explaining," Harry said, giving Delf a disapproving look. She didn't have to be rude about Cho's essay just because she was in a bad mood for some reason.

"Funny how much it sounded like Quidditch chat then," she replied sniffily.

He couldn't deny that. But what was her problem? She usually just sighed and rolled her eyes when he and Roderick and Tracey talked Quidditch. But Roderick solved the problem by nudging Delf with his arm and saying, "Come on, we've got our own homework to do. Let's go. Cheers, Harry, Cho."

"Bye," Harry said confusedly as Roderick practically dragged Delf across the common room to another table. "That was weird." Cho gave him an uncertain look. "I wonder if something happened at lunch. She's not usually so cross about Quidditch and homework."

-o-

The morning of Ravenclaw's first Quidditch game dawned bright and brisk, as much of November had been, but Harry didn't mind the cold because visibility was excellent. No way could the Snitch hide from him in those sorts of conditions, as he eagerly told Delf and Roderick that morning at breakfast. Roderick was looking a bit green and didn't eat much, despite usually having a large appetite. Harry was sympathetic, remembering his own nerves before his first game two years ago, but he also couldn't help but poke a bit of fun at his friend. "It'll be fine!" he said jovially, piling fried sausage on his plate and then Roderick's when he declined to serve himself. "The worst that happens is that you get bashed up by a Bludger, but on one's ever died of that, that I know of, and besides, we're playing Slytherin. They all know who your dad is, so they won't want you getting too hurt."

"How comforting," Roderick said thinly. "Though I'm sure Draco's already spreading all sorts of rumors about me, so that may not be true."

"Hmm." Harry hadn't thought of that. "Well, still, the worst thing I've heard of happening at a Hogwarts match is when someone got hit by both Bludgers at once, crashed into the stands, broke their shoulder, and spent a week unconscious in the Hospital Wing. But that was years ago."

"And you wonder why I don't like this game!" Delf exclaimed irritably. Harry laughed, and Roderick managed a weak smile.

By the time eleven rolled around, most of the school was down at the pitch, and Harry and Roderick and the rest of the team were down in the changing room getting on their uniforms. "Alright everyone," Abigail called, bringing everyone's attention to her. "We've got fine conditions out there today, and we've had a good long time to train. Cho, Roderick, since this is your first game, I'm sure you're nervous, but you've done brilliantly working together with Roger and I don't want you to worry that you're going to let us down. Slytherin's Chasers are fairly rubbish anyway, so we should have a proper good game, and we're expecting great things from Harry's Nimbus two-thousand, obviously." Harry grinned. "Okay, hands in, 'Ravenclaw wins' on three." Everyone stuck their hands in the middle and Abigail counted down and after three they all shouted "RAVENCLAW WINS!" and Chet and Chaz tried to get them all to caw like ravens. "You morons!" Roger cried. "Our sigil's an eagle!" In response, the Beaters both got right up in his face and screamed so loudly and shrilly that he dropped his broom to cover his ears. Laughing and berating their teammates, they trooped out onto the pitch to meet the Slytherins. Madam Hooch gave the usual warning about playing fair (though looking hard at Flint when she said it), and then the whistle went and both teams and referee rose smoothly into the air.

Lee Jordan was commentating, a task he had taken on with gusto the previous year when the Weasley twins got on the Gryffindor team, and his narration was lively and firmly kiltered against Slytherin, to McGonagall's ongoing and amusing annoyance. Harry immediately rose high above the game-proper, letting the Chasers have their space with the Quaffle while he searched for the Snitch, letting his eyes go wide and hazy so anything bright and shiny would stand out. Ravenclaw scored three times in a row, twice Roger and once Cho, but Roderick assisted twice and they were all flying good formation together, despite the Slytherin Beaters' best efforts. But the Slytherins were scoring too, and before long the score was forty-thirty in their favor.

A glint of gold attracted his attention and all his focus zoomed in on the tiny flittering ball hovering near the Ravenclaw goal hoops. Urging the Nimbus on didn't feel like any other broom he'd ever used, and he luxuriated in the feeling a little too much, so Terence Higgs noticed what he was doing and as he'd been a bit closer to the Ravenclaw side to begin with, he and Harry were quickly neck and neck. The Snitch darted away, ever to make the chase more difficult, but the Nimbus was more than up for it and Harry surged ahead until— _WHAM!_ Flint smashed into him from the side and they both went spinning off in opposite directions, and in Harry's case, away from the Snitch. "OI!" Lee Jordan shouted, but Harry was too discombobulated to register anything else.

When he finally recovered, it was to hear Lee complaining that even though Ravenclaw was getting a penalty, since Flint's collision had CLEARLY been intentional, he was should still be kicked out of the game for practically killing Seeker Potter—er, sorry, Professor McGonagall… Harry shook his head to clear it. In the kerfuffle, Higgs had lost the pursuit of the Snitch too, so that was good. And then Roderick got the penalty, his first ever goal, which was excellent, and the game resumed its previous rhythm. Harry was again circling high above everything else and he just thought he'd spotted the Snitch again when his Nimbus gave a weird, twitchy, sideways jilt, and the spot on his shoulder where his dragon tattoo usually hung around shivered, and he had the strangest certainty that the little ink dragon had roared at something.

Harry frowned. Had the collision with Flint knocked the broom funny somehow? No, that was nonsense. Probably it was just a weird one-time thing. But what was the Horntail's roar about? He had no answers so he just continued his circuit, but then it happened again, the sudden swerve and the silent roar. Worried, he started to descend, but he didn't get far before the Nimbus stopped responding to him and started drifting upwards again, bucking randomly back and forth. He began to hear shouts of concern from the stands, and grimaced. That was all he needed: everyone in a panic while he was trying to keep his blasted broom under control. Though he did spare a sympathetic thought for Delf, who was always afraid of flying-related accidents and was surely extremely worried.

But then he had to focus on hanging on because his broom went well and truly mad, throwing itself back and forth with wild abandon, jerking up and down, spinning around—it was like it was trying really really hard to throw him off! The rest of the game had come to a halt below as the other players stopped to watch—someone cried out in pain when a Bludger snuck up on them but Harry didn't see who—all he could do was cling on for dear life, wrapping his legs all the way around it like he was doing a Sloth Roll—the sky was down and the grass was up—he was glad he didn't wear glasses anymore or they'd surely have been lost—he was too shaken up even for nausea—a particularly violent heave nearly had him off, and he was hanging by only one hand and leg, his knee hooked over the bristles—a glint of gold amongst the green of the pitch's lawn—and then all at once it stopped. The Nimbus hung placid in the air, and in one desperate movement he swung himself back up on to it and commanded it down, plummeting nearly, there was a shrill scream from somewhere in the crowds, he sent Delf a silent apology, his arm was stretched all the way out, Lee Jordan was screaming something, closer closer closer, till YES! He had the Snitch gripped hard in his hand, its wings beating protest in the air, making it look like his hand was trying fly away. In the same instant he pulled out of the dive and swooped up through the flabbergasted Ravenclaw and Slytherin teams. They didn't stay flabbergasted for long: the Ravenclaws started cheering and screaming, Roderick leading the charge as he followed Harry upwards and spun a circle over the astounded crowds while the angry Slytherins heckled them. Harry couldn't stop grinning. Whatever had been going on with his broom, and it was surely very serious, nothing was enough to wipe out the pure joy and pride that came of winning a Quidditch game.

Before too long he led them all down to the lawn, where the team hoisted him onto their shoulders and excited spectators poured out onto the pitch to surround them. Someone shouted up the good news that Flint had been the one hit by the Bludger earlier, and that this victory put Ravenclaw at the top of the docket, and Harry basked in everyone's happiness. But as thoroughly as he enjoyed being praised and as good as it felt to be celebrated, one person was missing. "Where's Delf?" he yelled over to Roderick. It turned out she was in the Hospital Wing. She'd fainted when she thought Harry was falling.

"Honestly, I'm fine," she snapped when Harry arrived at the Hospital Wing, gasping from having sprinted all the way up to the castle. Roderick came puffing in several minutes later, and promptly flopped over on another of the beds. "I was hardly even unconscious. There's no reason to make such a fuss." But her eyes were warm gold with pleasure.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked one last time.

"Yes," she said firmly. "But listen, you'll never believe this. When your broom went wonky?"

"Wonky?" Roderick repeated incredulously.

"I'll stay calmer if I downplay it," Delf retorted. "So yes, wonky, I had to look away and I noticed Tom's friend Hermione sneaking off looking very suspicious, so I followed her. Guess what she did. Guess."

"She… went to the loo?" Harry said lamely.

"Oh, zero out of ten, mate," Roderick scoffed.

"That was quite rubbish, Harry. No, she went and _lit Professor Snape on fire."_

"What? No!" Roderick exclaimed, lurching up form the bed in sudden avid interest.

"She!" Harry shouted, stopping himself in time to avoid making Madam Pomfrey cross. "She did not!" he said a little more softly, affronted that his assessment of her as a Ravenclaw was being proven even more wrong than lying about the troll had already done. "Why in the world did she do that?"

"She thought it was him jinxing your room. Of course I told her that was nonsense, but _still_."

"That's _amazing_ ," Roderick said almost reverently. Seeing Harry's unimpressed look, he expanded: "It's just so quintessentially Gryffindor!"

Harry shook his head.

At dinner a couple of hours later, Ravenclaw table was almost unreasonably rowdy, and got some good-natured encouragement from the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, and sullen stares from the Slytherins. Harry was explaining, yet again, how it had felt when his broom started trying to dump him off—he'd actually left it with Madam Hooch and several other professors so they could examine it—when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and saw Tom standing there, wearing a puffy hat that nevertheless let a few strands of green and silver hair poke out. Harry had to grin. The twins had kept their promise. "Hey," he said, in too good of a mood to let even Tom bring him down.

Tom looked uncomfortable. "Can I talk to you?"

Harry groaned. "It'd better be important."

"It is."

"You can't take him away from his own party!" Roderick protested good-naturedly.

"No one asked you, Malfoy," Tom snapped.

"Hey!" Harry said angrily. "Apologize or I'm not going with you."

Tom looked taken aback. Then he glared at Roderick as though his rudeness were somehow the older boy's fault. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Good." He got up from his laughing friends and followed his brother out into the Entry Hall. "What?" he asked shortly.

"Harry, you've got to be careful," Tom said solemnly.

"If you're trying to warn my off being friends with a Malfoy, I'm going to go back to my supper and ignore you for the rest of the year."

"No, not that," Tom said. "Though…" Seeing Harry's narrowed eyes, he shook his head. "No. I meant your broom today. Someone really powerful must have jinxed it, and even though Hermione says your friend doesn't think Snape did it—which I don't know how she could know frankly—someone here still means you harm. And I think it must be because you're my brother! Why else would you matter that much to someone?"

"Thanks for the concern," Harry said flatly, and walked past him back into the Great Hall.

-o-

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

"Oh, James, a new letter from Tom just came with the post!"

_I'm just hurt that you never told me Harry's been a Seeker since his first year at Hogwarts._

"He's WHAT?" they chorused.

_You made me look like an idiot when I had to ask what Harry was doing on the pitch earlier during the game. Some presumptuous sixth-year Hufflepuff explained to me that he'd been on the team for two years now and had already broken all the records of the past century._

"Jeez! Even I wasn't that good!"

"How could he never have told us any of this? What's going on, James? First a tattoo, now this?"

_She looked at me like I was totally stupid._

_However badly my feelings may have been hurt, I'm writing for a far more noble purpose: today during the match, it's my belief that Harry's broom was jinxed_

"WHAT?" Lily screamed.

_by none other than my Potions Master, Professor Severus Snape._

"That bastard!" James roared.

"Come on, I'm sure it wasn't Severus," Lily admonished, though she sounded unnerved.

_The broom held all the tell-tale signs of having a malignant spell cast on it, and Snape had all the signs of having cast it. I noticed that he wasn't breaking eye-contact_

"He was probably working a counter-curse," Lily exclaimed. "And Harry had better be okay, or Dumbledore will be getting something much worse than a Howler tomorrow!"

_the whole time it was going on, which is essential for maintaining a spell. Luckily, and through very fast thinking on my part, his eye contact was disrupted and Harry was saved, and was subsequently able to win the game. So I guess this victory goes to me, not him._

"That was… a bit egotistical…" Lily said worriedly.

"Yeah…." James muttered reluctantly.

_I'm concerned, Mom and Dad. I don't want Harry to be put in danger just because he's related to me._

"That has always been a concern. Did we not make that clear to him?"

_I'd just feel terrible if anything happened to him. I think I now know why he's been distancing himself from us all of these years._

"Yeah, we definitely need to do something about that, James. I'm realizing that we actually know nothing about him."

_He's trying to save us all from the possibility of him being held hostage and used as leverage against us. So I forgive you for not telling me about him being on the team, and I think I've started to understand him better too._

_Love, Tom_

Just then, another owl sailed in through the window, clutching a very slim bit on parchment in its claw. James extracted it and the owl flew out again.

_"I won't be home for Christmas – Harry,"_ James read aloud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N If the Quidditch game feels rushed, it's because it is, and I'M MAD. We were supposed to have Delf's POV as she went and followed Hermione to light Snape on fire, and if you wish you could've read that, imagine how I feel. These early chapters were written a long time ago, like I said, and while that helps me maintain a nice regular upload schedule, it also means that documents can get corrupted and lose pages and pages of work! And did I back them up? No, cause I'm a MORON. Don't be a moron, kids! Back your work up! Anyway.
> 
> Chapter 5, "Heart's Desire", Half credit for this story goes to my friend fire1: we developed and outlined this idea together and there's no way it would exist without her. Go check her page out! All characters are owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros, etc. E.I. signing out


	5. Heart's Desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 4 and 5. Not a lot to say.  
> As always I will leave Excited-Insomniac A.N. at the end of the chapter. Again she is the one writing out each chapter. I just help plot the story out.

_Heart's Desire_

Harry practically walked on air for the next month. People he didn't even know high-fived him in the corridors between classes. Abigail dropped the Wednesday practice, so he and Roderick weren't late to Astronomy any more. Harry asked the twins to just keep Tom's hair Slytherin colours because people weren't laughing at him with his hair blue and bronze: they thought he was showing Harry support.

Roderick celebrated his fourteenth birthday by not doing homework and sneaking down to the kitchens with Harry and Delf, where they gorged themselves on cakes and pies and tarts, to the delight of the house-elves. Harry and Delf gave him the traditional silver picture frame for his letter, marks, and a photo of the three of them. Delf also gave him the personalized scrapbook of second year, the same as Harry had gotten in July.

But, with one thing and another, it was suddenly Christmas holiday. Harry had signed up to stay at school more eagerly than usual, thrilled to capture a few Tom-free weeks. Unfortunately, he would be enjoying them alone: Roderick and Delf were both going home, so the last day of term was bittersweet.

"We'll be back soon," Delf said comfortingly as Harry accompanied her and Roderick down to the front gates of the school.

"Yeah, and we'll have such horrible stories about our families that you'll immediately forgive us for leaving you here." Delf gave Roderick a funny look. "Well, I will, at least," the boy muttered.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said. "I'll have a chance to get ahead on classwork and stuff."

"That is the single most depressing thing I've ever heard," Roderick informed him.

They were at the gate now, and the three of them joined the straggly line waiting for the coaches to take them and their luggage down to Hogsmeade Station.

"Seriously Harry, the winter break is not that long. We'll be back before you know it," Delf told him.

"I know, I know. And it will be great not having to look over my shoulder for Tom every time I want to do something marginally interesting," Harry replied with grudging relief.

"Exactly."

"Harry, hi!" Harry looked up, startled, to see Cho and another girl he knew was in her year trotting down the path from the castle. Cho was waving.

"Hello," he called back, and then cursed himself for sounding so eager. _"Rule Number Seventeen,"_ said Sirius' voice in his head. _"Play it cool, even if you've been waiting to see her for like five years. Trust me on the five years thing."_

"Where are your things for break?" Delf asked suspiciously as the two second-years drew near. "Did you make her carry them?" That unfriendly tone was back in her voice, Harry noted with confusion. What did she have against Cho?

"Um…. No, I'm not going home for holiday. My mum and dad are visiting my grandparents in China, so I'm staying here."

"And you couldn't go with them?" Delf shot back.

"Portkeys give me very bad vertigo, and China isn't set up with the Floo, so no."

"Your parents could have Apparated with you."

Cho shrugged uncomfortably. Harry had been watching the exchange with growing distress, and decided that now was a good time to cut in.

"Well, that's alright. You can keep me company while these two – sorry, three – are off with their families. Can I walk you back to the castle?"

"Sure, that would be great. I'll see you later, Marietta. Have a good holiday."

"See you, Cho," the other girl said, and dragged her trunk forward to stand with someone else she knew.

"Have fun at home, you two. I'll see you when you get back. Barring a very serious disaster, my gifts won't be late this year."

"I'm holding you to that," Roderick told him sternly. "I won't be your friend anymore if you're wrong."

Harry laughed.

"We'll be back soon," Delf said. It sounded almost like a warning this time.

"Happy holidays," Harry called, waving over his shoulder as he and Cho turned back towards the castle.

"I don't think your friend Daphne likes me very much," Cho said worriedly.

"Don't worry about it. She's like that with everyone she doesn't know well," Harry told her, though he had found Delf's surliness somewhat exaggerated.

"That's odd. Anyway, why aren't you going home for holiday? I thought I saw your brother near the front of the line with his trunk. His hair is pretty distinctive these days."

"You probably did. I never go home for holiday though. My parents and I… don't get on."

"Oh, I'm sorry. That's too bad."

"It's alright. I've stopped minding so much."

"My dad and my uncle had a falling out about five years ago. They don't talk anymore."

"Oh." This conversation was a dead end, Harry realized. The silence stretched out into awkwardness as he searched for something to talk about. "Are you excited for the rest of our Quidditch games next term?" he finally asked.

"Not if they go like the first one did! That was terrifying!" she said earnestly.

He laughed. "I have to agree with you there. I doubt anything like that will happen again though."

"Do you have your broomstick back yet?"

"Yeah, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick say there's nothing wrong with it, so they've returned it."

"That's good. I wish I had a Nimbus. I think I would have done much better."

"But everyone watching the game says that you did really well! And I know Roger and Abigail were impressed with you."

"Thanks, that's nice of you to say," she said, blushing a little.

They entered the large main doors of the castle and headed upstairs. "Oh, you know what? I just realized I left my Transfiguration book in the Library. Will I see you later?"

"Yeah, I think so. Neither of us are going anywhere, right?"

"Right," she replied. "See you, Harry."

"Yeah, see you… Cho."

She smiled and hurried off down the corridor. Harry tried unsuccessfully to quell the raging butterflies in his gut on the way back to his dorm.

-o-

Christmas dawned frosty and grey, but snow still refused to fall. Harry was the only one left in his dorm over the vacation, so he lay in the unusual, blissful silence for a while before sitting up and happily facing the pile of presents at the foot of his bed. The world was a blur till he could get his contacts in, but he could tell it was a little larger than in previous years. The cynic in him said that his parents were trying to make up for it after Tom brought him to their attention so unexpectedly, as they usually just sent a letter with a few Galleons enclosed rather than actual gifts.

Harry had almost single-handedly emptied the Owlry in the last few days, sending one owl first to the Malfoy and Greengrass Manors, one on a loop of Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus, one to the Tracey's house and the Diggory's, and Hedwig to his own home. He was pleased with his gift selections this year: to celebrate Roderick's first Quidditch game, he had given him the nicest broom care kit money could buy, on his budget anyway; for Delf, a small bracelet charm in the shape of a dragon carried on another of their traditions, started four years ago when he got her the simple chain bracelet itself; Tom got a Zonko's Starter Prank Kit; his parents had been an easy pick, and he'd gotten them both matching scarves and gloves in Gryffindor colours; he'd sent the rest of his friends assorted sweets (except the twins, who got a large bag of the finest dungbombs on the market); to Sirius had gone a deluxe set of the twins' best hair dye potions for pranking James and Remus; and to Remus, an interesting book of Muggle legends and what was happening in the wizard world to prompt them.

Finally having gotten his contacts in, he set about investigating his own stack of gifts. Roderick's distinctively illegible left-handed handwriting read,

_To: Harry_  
_From: The Mysterious Broom Jinxer_  
_But actually, Roderick. Happy Christmas!_

Harry grinned as he saw a small snow-globe emerge from the wrapping paper. Looking closer, he saw that the inside held a tiny replication of a photo they had all taken together last Christmas, when they had all stayed at Hogwarts. Snow was falling in energetic flurries, and the mini-Harry, mini-Roderick, and mini-Delf waved out of their tiny glass world. Harry put it happily on his nightstand, where the mini-trio continued to wave at him.

A large package from his mum somehow wound up next, and he was surprised to find a new set of every-day robes and three new pairs of jeans, but not surprised to find a book entitled _31 Reasons Why Mum Is Always Right_. James had hidden his own gift inside his wife's, though it was individually wrapped. It was a fifteen Galleon giftcard to Zonko's and Harry's first thought would be that was how he was getting Tom's next birthday present. But they had tried this year. There was a lot more effort and forethought put into this than a card reading "Dear Harry, Happy Christmas! We miss you and will see you this summer. You should come home next year! Love, Mum, Dad, and Tom" along with five Galleons.

The twins and Lee Jordan had collectively gotten him a large box set of Honeydukes chocolate, and he opened that quite happily and kept it next to him as he continued. Uncle Remus came through on the Excellent Gift front again with a Sneakoscope, which Harry put right next to his snow-globe and kept glancing at with interest. Uncle Sirius managed to rival that with a very posh dragonhide jacket. Harry resisted the temptation to put it on over his rumpled pajamas.

He found Delf's gift buried at the very bottom. It was small, but when he opened it, he thought it was the best gift of the day. It was a silver watch with a Hungarian Horntail carved around the face, with a tiny emerald chip for an eye and its tail trailing off to become the strap. The back of the face bore the inscription _For Harry, who is my oldest and dearest friend, and the one who gave me my name. May you always be as wise and courageous as the dragon you bear ~ Delf_

Glowing with what some would call the 'joy of the season', Harry pulled trousers and a thick woolen jumper over his pajama top and hurried out into the common room, tucking his box of chocolate under his arm even as he struggled to get Delf's watch onto his wrist.

He was pleasantly surprised to find Cho coming down the girls' stairs opposite him, and decided that even without his two best friends, it would be a good Christmas. He offered her a chocolate, which she happily accepted, and they went down to breakfast swapping explanations of the gifts they'd gotten. They sat with Roger and the twins at breakfast and chatted easily about Quiddditch before Roger went off to be with his girlfriend from Hufflepuff and the twins spied Ron and went off to make fun of his new jumper, and Harry and Cho were left alone again.

They spent much of the morning wandering around the grounds, which, while not exactly wrapped in a snowy winter wonderland, were nonetheless beautiful. Harry felt strangely edgy as the day progressed, and he caught himself glancing around with a mixture of hope and dismay for a wayward bit of mistletoe, half his mind occupied with the desire to kiss the girl at his side and the other half worrying that he wouldn't have the nerve if the opportunity presented itself.

They returned to the castle at midday for lunch, and paused in the chilly entry hall to stomp some of the cold out of their boots. Cho was in the middle of telling a rather animated story of the time when her cousin (whom she had not seen in five years due to their fathers' quarrel) had gotten stuck a snow-drift and when Cho had tried to help her, they had both gotten stuck and were missing for about four hours, to their parents' dismay. Harry was laughing and preparing to see if she knew the story of George smacking McNair upside the head with a Bludger bat during that blizzard last year—when Peeves dumped a large bucket of muddy slush on their heads before sailing away, screaming with laughter.

"Mr Potty's all naughty!  
Not a day shall go past  
When he doesn't want  
To give Chang a blast!"

Cho – thank goodness – was too preoccupied with spitting out mud and getting her wet, slimy hair out of her face to hear any of Peeve's song, but Harry's face was burning as they slogged up the main stairs together towards Ravenclaw Tower.

"What always runs but never walks, often murmurs, never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a mouth but never eats?" the eagle knocker inquired imperturbably, not taking pity on their soggy, muddy condition in the least.

"The first two sound like a baby or a toddler," Cho said through chattering teeth.

"It's a river," said Harry confidently.

"Indeed," the knocker agreed, and the door swung open.

"That was amazing!" Cho told him as he followed her into the common room.

"Not really. We've just had one dumped on our heads, so that's mostly what I was thinking of."

"Only mostly?" she asked teasingly.

"Well, that and how to get the Bloody Baron to murder Peeves for us."

"Oh, right. Of course," she giggled, and Harry wondered if it was only wishful thinking that made her sound wistful, as if she had wanted him to say something else.

"Well, I'll see you later, Harry. I think we both want showers more than anything else right now. Will you be at dinner?"

"I was thinking of skipping, actually," Harry said wryly, wiping a drip of icy mud off the back of his neck.

Her face fell. "Oh… then, I'll just…."

"No, wait, I was joking! Sorry, I forget not everyone's used to my sense of humor sometimes. I'll definitely see you for dinner."

"Oh." She smiled. "Alright, see you tonight then." With a small wave, she turned and headed up the stairs to the girls' dorms. Once her door was closed, Harry dashed up the opposite set of stairs, alternately rhapsodic in the reasonable success the morning had been, and kicking himself for acting like he'd been talking to Roderick or Delf and making her uncomfortable.

After a long shower and an even longer afternoon spent footling around in his dorm, he did wind up going down to the Great Hall and meeting Cho for dinner. He had a pleasant day, he decided later, in bed. If only he weren't so nervous around her…

The next morning dawned no less freezing and no more snowy than any other day that winter had. Harry resisted the urge to cut his morning run short, as he had been doing quite a bit that season, for no other reason than to postpone going back to the Ravenclaw common room. Nothing sounded better than a nice bout of meditation in front of one of the fires, but that would involve risking running into Cho, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He was quite sure he liked her, of course. But that was part of the problem: he couldn't tell if she liked him back or not. And it was absolutely driving him mad.

The castle felt like a freezing-cold cage when he got into the entry hall, and he made the snap decision to not return to the common room right away. Instead, he jogged the opposite direction, towards an end of the castle he never had much of an excuse to explore. The solid, rhythmic slapping of his feet against the stones made it easy to relax into his thoughts. Hanging out with Cho was fun, but it wasn't easy. He had to think so hard about everything he said and did, and he never felt that anything came out sounding the way he wanted it to. And she was always so at ease and funny and charming. He found it impossible to think that he could offer her anything she couldn't find in someone else.

Something clattering out of the doorway a few meters ahead of him brought him out of his brown study. He stopped, breathing a little hard from the last staircase. The object skittered to a halt at his feet: it was a small-ish grey pebble. He picked it up and stepped forward to peer into the doorway it had recently escaped out of. The scene there was a little more interesting than the little grey pebble would have made him suppose: Professor Dumbledore stood in front of something that looked like a doorframe cut out of a wall and put in the middle of a room. Small pebbles similar to the one Harry held were scattered all over the floor. Confused, Harry stepped forward, accidentally kicking one of the stones across the room.

Dumbledore's head jerked up, his mass of white hair momentarily haloing his face.

"Mr Potter," he said with a sort of soft astonishment. "I did not hear you."

"Sorry, Professor. One of your rocks, er, found me in the corridor. I only wondered—"

"I am not angry, Mr Potter, so there is no need to excuse yourself. Though I would have thought there would be more interesting things for a young boy to do the day after Christmas than tripping over rocks in this unused corner of the castle."

Suspicion overcoming his initial confusion, Harry peered over Dumbledore's shoulder (a nearly fruitless attempt, since Dumbledore was easily forty-five centimeters taller than him). "Sorry if you wanted to stay hidden, sir. Finding you was not my intention. But that mirror must be awfully difficult to break if you've thrown all these rocks at it and nothing's happened." He still didn't trust Dumbledore after the time he'd tried to tell him Quirrel was after the Stone, but this mirror thing looked interesting. And Delf would kill him if he had to say he'd found something of interest in the castle and not investigated it.

Interest lit the old man's bright-blue eyes. "You are perceptive, Mr Potter. But it is hardly my intent to destroy this object."

"Oh," said Harry, most of his attention now focused on the inscription just visible across the top of the frame, behind Dumbledore's pointed hat: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_. What on earth…? "I just assumed, given the stones…"

"That I would be throwing them? No, I'm afraid if I were ever to intend harm upon this object, there would be a variety of much more delicate ways to go about it which I would employ."

"I see." So he was intent on being vague and mysterious. Maybe he'd be able to sneak back later and learn more about it on his own. "Well, sorry to disturb you, sir," Harry said formally, and stepped forward to hand the headmaster his pebble.

Dumbledore seemed startled by this abbreviated end to their conversation, and as Harry turned to leave, said: "I was not under the impression, Mr Potter, that you were a remarkably incurious young man."

Harry faced him again, metaphorical hackles raised. "Sir?"

"Most students, such as your brother, for example, would be, shall we say, up in arms if they happened upon the scene you just did, with the desire to learn what I was up to. You are not, and in fact took pains to shorten the time you spent here. Do you really not wonder what I am doing?"

"I do wonder, sir. However, please don't be confused: the self-control I exhibit in cases, for example, like this one, in no way inhibits my curiosity. I simply recognized that given our non-relationship, rudely questioning you about your actions would have the opposite effect from the one I desired. Sir." All true, but skirting rude, and he watched for the Headmaster's reaction with interest and slight anxiety.

"I see." Dumbledore appeared to think for a moment. "Perhaps you would indulge me for a minute more and come stand here with me."

Trusting the situation less and less with every passing instant, Harry stepped forward till he was right next to the Headmaster, staring into the mirror he seemed to think so much of. Harry couldn't really figure out what the hullabaloo was about: all he saw was himself and Dumbledore, side by side, in a room strewn with little rocks all over the floor.

Then Dumbledore moved aside, so only Harry was in the frame. His mouth fell open.

"But where were they—?" he exclaimed, spinning around. The room behind him was empty, save for the Headmaster and himself. He slowly turned back to face the mirror. And there they were again: his family. His mum, his dad, his brother… But it wasn't like the photos he'd become used to seeing, where their parents bowed protectively over Tom at the expense of making Harry look like a silly little branch at odds with the rest of the tree and in need of being pruned. Lily had her arm around his shoulders, and looked down at him happily. Tom's arm was linked with his, and his smile was openly admiring as he stared up at his elder brother. James gazed proudly at his small family, one hand on Harry's shoulder and the other at his wife's waist. They accepted him. They welcomed him. They loved him. It was everything that Harry had stopped hoping for.

"A perfectly happy person would look into this mirror and see himself exactly as he is," Dumbledore's voice told him from the far end of the room. "Do you understand?"

"I think so…" Harry said slowly, not taking his eyes off the image before him. "This is a thing that shows you what you want, isn't it? What you really want?" He struggled to keep his voice even.

"Precisely. Many men have wasted away in front of the Mirror of Erised. Many men have died before it instead of trying to ascertain whether their desire is even attainable. So I think it right to warn you, Mr Potter, that I intend to move the Mirror to a more... secure location. Since you are the only student to my knowledge who has found it, I ask you and you alone to heed my words: do not go looking for it after today. It would bring you no joy."

Harry tore his eyes away, the bubble of terrible, aching joy he had felt for a moment bursting into nothingness. "Thank you for the warning, professor, but I had no plans to spend any large amount of time here. I know better than to think that the impossible might be attainable."

Dumbledore looked at him thoughtfully from across the room. Light from the open doorway silvered his spectacles for a moment, making his eyes into shining half-circles. "Why didn't you go home for your holiday? Your brother did."

Harry shook his head, letting his gaze pass reluctantly once more over the beautiful dream reflected in front of him. "Never mind. Have a good day, professor."

Harry turned and left the room and didn't look back at the Mirror or the Headmaster. He went directly back to Ravenclaw Tower. He took a shower and then sat and waited in the common room next to the statue of Rowena until Cho and her friend came in from breakfast. She smiled nervously when she saw him, and he smiled back.

"Good morning," he said, getting up from his chair as she came closer. "I was hoping to see you before long. I was wondering if you might like to go out with me some time? As a date?"

"Oh!" her dark eyes widened and she blushed prettily. "Yes, I would. That would be fantastic." Harry wondered for a moment why her eyes weren't changing color before remembering he wasn't talking to Delf.

"Great." He grinned.

"Come on, Cho!" called the girl she had come in with. She had been waiting impatiently by the stairs throughout the conversation.

Cho started. "Just a second!" she called back. "So… I guess I'll see you later."

"Yep!" said Harry happily, and reached out impulsively and grasped her fingers for a moment.

She blushed again and whispered "Bye," as she turned towards her friend at the girls' stairs. Harry felt like he'd burst. It was one thing to have given up on his parents ever loving him. But he figured there was no good reason why he couldn't take a chance on Cho.

-o-

The holiday ended soon after, bringing with its closure classes and friends. Harry eagerly told Roderick and Delf everything that had happened in their absence, from the Mirror and Dumbledore to Cho and their plans to explore the grounds next time there was a Hogsmeade trip, which Harry would miss. Delf took a great intellectual interest in the Mirror of Erised, as he had expected, but when he got the resulting scene in to common room, her eyes went from hazel (worried) to orange (angry) to grey (sad) in the space of about five seconds. She wouldn't explain herself no matter what Harry said, and when Roderick told him to leave off, he did. He didn't think much of it, as she was often reticent about her feelings, even if her friends could tell exactly what her emotions were.

Classes began with no more than the usual discomforts of having all of one's free time viciously ripped away at once. They were beginning crystal balls in Divination, and Professor Trelawny persisted in predicting Harry's imminent doom. Care of Magical Creatures meant a section on Grindilows' feeding habits and breeding patterns, and Harry developed a thorough dislike for the tentacle-y little carnivores. They were beginning proper translations in Ancient Runes, which Delf continued to find rather boring, though she was sure it would become useful someday.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was the only real problem. Harry's scar continued to burn uncomfortably whenever he entered the room, no matter what he did or where he sat. Roderick guessed that there was probably some Dark artifact in the room somewhere, but Delf shot that down with the well-aimed question of why it only affected Harry. Delf in turn hypothesized that Harry was being a little too specific when he said his scar hurt, and said maybe he was allergic to some object Quirrel had in the classroom. There wasn't much to be said against that, but Harry was certain he wasn't being dramatic: his scar really was what was hurting.

But nevertheless, the days passed in a haze of academia inherent to a third-year's life until the Hogsmeade weekend was upon them. Delf had spent about half an hour the night before trying to convince Harry that he could postpone or cancel his date with Cho and go with them to Hogsmeade, but Harry had been adamant. A date was a date. Delf had been more hostile towards him after that than he really thought was necessary: it was only Hogsmeade, after all.

His run was short that morning, as it was still freezing. Harry wondered if it mightn't be a better idea to stay in the common room or somewhere else where it was warm with Cho rather than go traipsing off around the grounds, but those considerations could wait. He bid his friends a perfectly cordial goodbye (though Delf was still rather cold, he noticed) as they set off for town from breakfast. He and Cho had agreed to meet in the common room at ten, but that meant he had about an hour to deal with.

He spent it alternately trying to read on his bed and pacing about, wondering if he should try to do something a little more respectable with his genetically untamable hair than just pull it back into a rough ponytail like usual.

Finally deciding that there was nothing he could do to make it behave short of shaving it off – which he was hardly about to do – he headed down to the common room about five minutes early and tried to arrange himself to look relaxed. He met with mixed results, and finally wound up just slouched in an armchair twiddling his thumbs as the minutes stretched on.

Harry's foot was quite asleep by the time she showed up, ten minutes late.

"I'm sorry," were the first words out of her mouth. "I couldn't find the scarf that matches this hat."

Glad that she couldn't see his socks (one was grey and one was blue-and-green striped), he politely waved it off and they set off through the castle. He and Cho hadn't really spent much time together, he reflected as their footsteps echoed off the flagstones. He had had perfectly sound reasons for asking her out: he knew they got along alright, they had interests in common, and she was very pretty, and he liked her because of those things, but that only went so far when faced with a whole day spent solely in one another's company and a dearth of conversation topics looming before them.

The sky outside was dismal and gray, and the grounds were deserted. Nearly all the third-year and -above students were in Hogsmeade, and the rest were inside, probably near a fire. Ice rimed everything in a glittery halo: each blade of grass and evergreen needle had become a very oddly-shaped diamond, and the lake was like a flat black pane of glass. Harry hoped the giant squid wasn't too cold.

"It's very pretty," Cho said beside him, her breath puffing visibly away on the light wind. "I love it here."

"Yeah," he said dumbly. The breeze flicked his cowlick around his nose. He swatted at it absently. The seconds ticked by. He wished he could think of something to say. He _had_ to think of something before it occurred to her to ask about—

"Would you like to walk down to the Quidditch pitch?" she finally asked. Harry gave a silent sigh of relief and agreed.

Walking was good. It gave the semblance of action and movement without him having to worry about putting his metaphorical foot in his mouth. She had her hands in her pockets, so he didn't have to wonder if not holding hands was alright. And she hadn't even wanted to talk about Tom, which is what most people did with him. Harry thought it a very relaxing five minute walk. They climbed up into the stands and gazed out over the goal hoops, silent again.

"When did you realize you were a wizard?" she asked. Harry was taken aback. What an interesting, intelligent question! Why hadn't he been able to think of something like that?

"Wow, um… I think I was about five. I used to throw a lot of tantrums when I was little, and this one time I was doing one and I made the chandelier explode. I think I terrified my parents, but it seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do at the time."

She giggled. "I'd never have thought you would be that kind of kid! You're so… nice now."

"Trust me, I didn't used to be. I was a regular menace. What about you?"

"I think I was fairly good as a child. No more annoying than they usually are, anyway."

"Oh, I meant about when you realized you were a witch."

"Oh! I think I was about five or six too. We used to have this cat that was black and white, and I thought she would look loads better if she were pink and purple, so… she was."

"Ha! You would do Professor McGonagall proud."

"I doubt it. Her Animagi form is a cat, you know, and I don't suppose she'd like having her fur be a random new color."

"I meant the Transfiguration bit... Isn't that rather advanced?"

"Oh, I don't think so. I don't know if there's a way to calculate the level of difficulty of accidental magic."

"I guess not."

They lapsed into silence again. The wind whistled disconsolately through and around the stands and goal hoops and rustled the frozen grass several dozen meters below.

"Come to think of it, you've never sat in the stands and cheered the Ravenclaw team, have you?"

How was she so good at this? "No, I haven't. That's really odd, now that you say it."

"How did you get on the team anyway? It was the year before I came, so all I've heard are stories that are probably two-thirds innocent exaggeration and one-third invented by the Weasley twins."

"And one hundred percent wrong, more than likely," he replied wryly. "It's not actually that interesting."

"I think I'll reserve judgment on that till I've heard the story."

"Okay, well, the Seeker before me, Norman Longfellow, graduated, so they had tryouts for a new one, like usual. My friend Roderick said I should go for it. I think he was mostly joking, since the only time I'd flown before, I'd broken my arm. But I had known I liked it – flying, not breaking my arm, don't worry – so I went. Arthur – I mentioned he was Captain then – laughed in my face when I said I wanted to try out and told me to sit aside. I suppose I can't blame him. I had come with a school broom since I didn't have my own, and I was just a scrawny first-year. But I watched the other applicants, and they were all just… rotten. Well, one or two were decent, but I knew I could do better. That probably sounds really vain, doesn't it?"

"No, go on. I'm waiting for it to get interesting."

"Er, well, if—"

"Oh! That was terrible! That came out completely wrong, I'm so sorry. Don't worry, it's very interesting. I just had the feeling that you stopped right before the action was about to start."

"Oh. I did, actually."

"I'm really sorry. Please go on."

"Well, I was watching everyone else bung about, and getting really frustrated, so I got on the manky old Comet I had borrowed and took off. It only did what I wanted about a third of the time, but I was still better than most of the people there. Arthur thought I was just mucking about, but Lola and Eli – two other seventh-years like him – convinced him to let me try on a proper broom, and after that he had to admit that I was alright. I think his reluctance to let me on was based more on me making him look stupid than anything else, but the rest of the team wouldn't let him live it down for the rest of the year."

"He was still mean to you even though you won every single game?" she sounded incredulous.

"No, not mean, but I think he held a bit of a grudge. And I didn't win every game. Not really."

"Wait, which one did you lose?"

"I mean, I still caught the Snitch, but only because the other Seeker took a Bludger to the head early on. Someone had stolen the school broom that had been fixed up for me, so I wasn't flying well, and I only got the Snitch by luck in the end. That was the last game of my first year."

"Oh, come on, that counts."

"I guess."

"And I think that's a perfectly wonderful story. I don't understand why people think they have to embellish it."

"Maybe because 'he went to tryouts and they let him on the team' is all it really boils down to."

"But still!"

Harry didn't point out that he had been trying to be funny. He was starting to seriously doubt his sense of humor still worked.

Silence descended again. Harry's ears were starting to feel like ice cubes. The castle was starting to look inviting.

"Did getting your tattoo hurt?"

Merlin, she was three for three!

"Not really, no. I heard Muggles have this perfectly barbaric method that has to do with getting stabbed with needles, but it was nothing like that. It felt like a mild Shock Hex when the ink bonded to my skin, that's all."

"That's so cool. And it's a dragon, right? Did you see the design in the shop, or a book or something?"

"My fried Daphne doodled it, actually," he replied. It felt strange to have to describe Delf as 'his friend'. He was used to just talking to her. "She was bored in Charms one day last year and drew it on the back of some revision notes. I think she accidentally wove some kind of minor protection charm into it, because it did something really odd when my broom got jinxed last game." He explained about how he'd felt as if his dragon had roared right before his broom went mad.

"That's so strange," she said when he was done. "Have you thought of having Professor Flitwick have a look at it?"

"I hadn't, but that actually makes perfect sense."

"It'd be easy to stay after class some time and talk to him."

"True, but stripping my shirt off in front of my Head of House might be a little awkward."

"Still, I think you should try."

_'Stop it, Harry. Something killed your sense of humor and there's no use trying to resurrect it,'_ he told himself firmly.

The seconds marched past in silence. His bum was starting to lose feeling. His stomach grumbled quietly.

"Are you getting hungry at all? I didn't have much of a breakfast," he ventured after a little while.

"I am actually, but I didn't want to say anything," she said sheepishly.

"Great. Shall we go back to the castle?" He hoped he didn't sound too eager.

"Sure."

They stood, stretching stiff limbs and carefully not making eye-contact. The trek back to the castle was quiet again, but Harry was hyperaware of her hand swinging loosely at her side, so close to his.

_'Rule Number Twenty-Two: when in doubt, go for it. If you get slapped, at least you'll know you didn't miss any chances. Not that you'll be trying anything slap-worthy for a while yet,'_ Sirius had said two years ago in France. So Harry steeled himself, reached out, and tentatively grasped her hand.

She looked down, dark eyes wide with surprise, but then she glanced up at him and smiled. He smiled back, and the silence the reigned over the rest of the walk wasn't awkward at all.

-o-

"So? How'd it go?" Roderick asked that night in the common room. The three of them were sitting in front of the fire under the boy's dormitory, reunited after a long day spent either in Hogsmeade or wandering about Hogwarts grounds. Roderick had snagged the armchair closest to the hearth, so Delf and Harry leaned against one another on the sofa next to him. Delf, claiming creator's rights, had pulled his shirt half-way off and was playing with his dragon, which curled under her fingers like a tickled kitten. Harry was seriously displeased with its non-ferocious attitude.

"Alright, I guess. It was really awkward most of the time," he said uncertainly.

"Really?" Delf sounded oddly interested. Girls were always so consumed by gossip…

"I mean, I just couldn't think of anything to say. She was really good at it! She asked about how I started Quidditch and if it hurt to get my tattoo and when I found out I was a wizard. Just how interesting is that?"

"Rather interesting," Roderick allowed.

"Well, not very," Delf said. Harry glanced at her, but her eyes were downcast and he couldn't see what color they were.

"But I just couldn't keep any conversation going for more than about two minutes. I keep replaying everything in my head, but I've no better ideas of what I could have said. And I think I've lost my sense of humor."

"So basically, you were an utter failure."

"My, but that was stark," Roderick said in surprise. Delf glared back at him defensively.

"But I'm afraid Delf's right," Harry sighed. "Cho's nice enough that she wouldn't tell me if she hadn't enjoyed herself. I don't want to have mucked it up."

"Well, did you grope her?" Roderick asked reasonably.

"Did—I—what? No! I mean, I… we held hands, but that—"

"—doesn't count, right. So you're not committed," Delf concluded, as if that solved everything.

"Well, I know, but—"

"Harry, look," Roderick interrupted. "You were nervous today. It's not the end of the world. You'll see her again tomorrow and see how that goes. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed heavily. "It's just so frustrating. I'm fine with Delf and other girls. So it's not because she's a _girl_ … it's just because she's _her_."

"So, you like her," Roderick summarized flatly. "This may make headlines, but we know. Come on, let's go to bed. I think Harry needs to sleep this mood off."

"Liking someone isn't a mood!" Harry protested as they all stood up.

"No, but pessimism and self-pity are," Delf snapped, her eyes flaring orange. "Good night."

"Did that sound like an overreaction to you too, or was that only me?" Harry wondered aloud as they watched their friend flounce up the stairs.

Roderick shrugged. "Not really, no. Not for her, anyway."

-o-

Meditating the next morning did very little for the turmoil in his head. He wanted to see Cho again, of course, but his stomach was tying itself in furious knots from nervousness over that very same thing.

He was jumpy and tense on the way down to breakfast, certain he was about to run into her around every corner. It got to the point where Roderick smacked him on the back of his head and even that did no good. Delf was unusually tight-lipped and dour until they got to the Great Hall. Harry's eyes reflexively scanned the Ravenclaw table and found Cho sitting near the far end of it with Marietta and the girl she'd been with when Harry originally asked her out. She happened to glance up as he was looking at her, and she smiled and waved a little. Harry smiled back, and his stomach suddenly felt much better as he and his friends sat down.

They had returned to the earlier argument over Animagi forms, with the boys still trying to convince Delf that being a bird would far exceed any merits of anything else she could ever possibly think of.

"Yes, but imagine the hygiene! All those feathers? You know birds clean themselves with their _beaks_?" she was saying shrilly when Harry felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned and nearly snarfed his pumpkin juice when he saw Cho standing behind him.

"Hi," he choked out. "Hi,"— _cough_ —"Just a,"— _cough_ —"second—" He took a few seconds to clear the liquid out of his lungs before trying again. He ignored Roderick, who was howling with laughter across the table, and said politely, "Good morning,"

"Good morning," she repeated back, looking at once alarmed and amused. "Do you think I could borrow you for a moment?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, getting up from the bench. "I'm going to want to finish these eggs later," he said sternly to Roderick, who was still laughing and only waved him away. Delf didn't respond at all; only kept spooning cereal into her mouth. Her eyes were closed.

He followed Cho out into the empty Entry Hall. It hadn't even occurred to him to wonder what she wanted to say, so it made him neither happy nor worried when she started out with, "I had a lovely time yesterday, Harry."

"That's great. I did as well," he agreed.

Her smile was a little tight at the edges. "Yes, good. But I think we were both a little more uncomfortable than we were letting on, weren't we?"

"Er... Yeah, I suppose," he said reluctantly, remembering his conversation with Delf and Roderick the night before. She hadn't overheard any of that, had she?

"I like you a lot," she told him, and suddenly he knew where all this was going. "You're a wonderful person. You're smart and funny and very considerate. But I also think it's the wrong time for us to try dating."

"Oh."

"I'd like to stay on good terms with you though," she added. "Since we'll still be on the team together and everything."

"Oh, yeah, sure. Of course."

"Great. And thank you for letting me say all that so quickly. I know it's not the nicest thing to hear."

"I didn't actually get it till about halfway through, so don't thank me."

She smiled. "So… friends?" she asked hopefully, extending her right hand.

"Definitely." They shook.

"Well, see you at Quidditch practice, I suppose," she said after a moment.

He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah!" She smiled and headed past him back into the Great Hall. "Oh, hey, Cho…" she turned back, framed in the large doorway. "Just to be straight, are you going to count this as a… thing? Like, were we a… thing?"

She laughed her rare delighted laugh. "Yes, I think so. See you, Harry." And she was gone.

Harry spent a moment to absorb what had just happened. Well, there were certainly worse scenarios that could have been enacted, he decided. Of course he wasn't happy, but in some way he was relieved: he had been so anxious just trying to think of things to say to her! And now they could just be friends and teammates, and that would be far easier. Yes, this was better.

Remembering he had half his breakfast still waiting for him, as well as friends who were probably wondering if he'd gone and jumped off some cliff somewhere, he turned back towards the Great Hall himself, but—

"Oi! Watch it, Potter!"

—Draco Malfoy was in the way, dragging his elder brother out of the Hall by his sleeve.

Quickly getting over his shock, Harry said, "I would apologize, except it was you who just jammed your bony little shoulder into my ribs."

Sneering, Draco brushed past him. Roderick shot Harry a look just as he was being pulled past him that said 'I have no idea what's going on, but I'll tell you everything once I do'. Accepting this silent communication as standard operating procedure when it came to dealing with younger brothers, Harry shook his head and went back to the Great Hall.

"I'll assume you don't know anything about why Draco just dragged Roderick out, do you?" he asked as he sat down next to Delf and began finishing his now-lukewarm eggs.

She shrugged without looking at him. "Draco came up all of a sudden and said that he had to tell Roderick something. I said anything he was telling Roderick he could tell me too, but he just gave me this really nasty look and repeated himself: 'You'd regret not hearing this, Roderick'," she mimicked the younger Malfoy.

"Hm. Weird. What do you think it is?"

"Probably poor wittle Dwaco is having bad dweams again," she said snidely, talking mostly to her toast and marmalade. Harry snorted. "So what did Miss Chang want?" she asked casually. "To tell you her friend thinks you're cute? That that was a particularly good joke you made yesterday? She can't go a single moment without you or her heart will stop beating?" There was a definite edge to her tone now, though for the life of him, Harry couldn't figure out what he'd done to put it there.

"She dumped me, actually," he said.

"Oh! That's terrible!" She met his gaze for the first time in several days, and her eyes were golden from happiness, making Harry more confused than ever. "So what did she say?"

"It was really… _neat_ , actually. She says she likes me perfectly well, but she doesn't think we should date right now." He shrugged and took a bite of egg. "I suppose we are a bit young. And I think we're still on good terms with each other."

"Good! Good, that's very good," she said enthusiastically, spreading jam on a new bit of toast.

Before Harry could correct her obvious misconception that he'd gotten dumped rather than engaged, Roderick returned, and the look on his face meant he had very interesting news.

"Is poor wittle Dwaco having nightmawes again?" Delf asked with exaggerated sympathy.

"No: better!" Roderick whispered, sitting down opposite the other two. "Draco's obsessed with Tom, Harry, almost weirdly so."

"Oh, is that all? I thought this was going to be interesting," Delf complained.

"Well, let me explain. He's obsessed with getting Tom in trouble."

"That's better," Harry said. Delf nodded.

"Yes, and it looks like he may have really succeeded. From what he told me, I figured out that Tom and his friends went down to see Hagrid a few weeks ago, at night."

"He couldn't have stayed out of trouble for the rest of term? Is it that hard?"

"For him, yes," Delf answered his rhetorical question. "Why were they visiting Hagrid?"

"Apparently they saw his lights were on or something, that's all I could guess. But then, Tom has a sixth sense for trouble, so he may not have even had a reason. But anyway, Draco followed them down and spied on them and he saw that Hagrid had been hatching a dragon egg!"

"Are you serious?" Delf demanded, forgetting to keep her voice down. Roderick shushed her.

"Yes, and that's not all: the little bugger's been a perfect creep and overheard the troublesome trio – new nickname, yeah? – talking somewhere. He says your brother and Ron and Hermione are going to help Hagrid smuggle the dragon out of the castle."

"He's not…" Harry groaned. "Please say Draco made all this up?"

"Afraid I can't do that. Draco's clever: he wouldn't be in Slytherin if he weren't. But he's not very imaginative. Is he blackmailing Tom with what he knows? No. Is he using his advantage at all? No. He's only trying to get them caught and sent to detention." Roderick shook his head sadly. "So much wasted potential."

"Yes, but never mind any of that. When was all this supposed to happen?" Delf snapped.

"Tonight, as far as I could tell. Draco wasn't really clear. So what are we going to do, Harry?"

"'Do'?" Harry made a rude noise with his tongue. "Nothing, of course. It was mostly just fun to interfere in their stupid little duel, and good thing we did, in hindsight, but they have to learn that acting like buffoons tends to have its consequences."

"So we're going to sit back and watch them get in too deep, is that it?" Delf verified.

"Exactly."

"Well, I like it," said Roderick happily, clapping his hands together. "I had been planning on not finishing that Transfiguration essay for tomorrow because we'd be off chasing high dudgeon with a dragon."

"But I suppose we ought to go talk to Hagrid. I'd certainly like to know where to get a dragon egg if the need for one ever arose unexpectedly," Harry said brightly.

Delf peered at him worriedly. "In what wild, unlikely situation would you ever have use for a dragon egg, Harry Potter?"

"I don't know, you see, that's what would make it unexpected." She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

"But wait," she said suddenly. "Why would Draco tell you any of this, Roderick? I'd hardly say he's dense enough to think of trying to get you in cahoots."

"No, of course not. It was the same old nonsense. I can tell Dad has rubbed off on him. 'You shouldn't associate with this sort of person because they have this sort of "bad" quality, la-de-da'. In this case, it was mostly 'steer clear of Harry Potter because his brother is a no-good stuck-up git and they hang about with blood traitors and Muggle-borns and such'."

"Charming," Delf murmured.

"Yeah, you're telling me…" Roderick seemed honestly saddened by his brother's adherence to prejudice, and Harry cast about for something to distract him with. Unlike with Cho, all sorts of things—

"Well, anyway, Cho dumped me," he said casually, forking more eggs into his mouth.

Roderick snapped to attention. "Wait, actually? That's… wow, sorry." Status of Plan 'Distract Roderick from his Stupid Prejudiced Brother': Success.

"Apparently she was very nice about everything," Delf said blithely.

"Thank you, for ruining the totally heart wrenching version I was about to tell him," Harry said petulantly.

"Oh, sorry. Go ahead. Roderick, forget I said anything about it."

"Really, Harry, what happened? Are you okay?"

"In all seriousness, yeah, I am. Delf was right: she was really nice about it. She says I'm a wonderful person – that's a direct quote there, 'wonderful' – but that it was the wrong time to try dating." He shrugged. "Not so bad, all things considered."

Roderick was nodding. "That doesn't sound too terrible, actually."

"So shall we go see Hagrid now?" Delf said brightly, not covering her boredom very well.

"Yeah, let's go," Harry agreed, pushing his plate away.

They made a quick detour to their dorms to wash their teeth and grab cloaks before setting off across the crackling grass to Hagrid's house at the edge of the Forest.

"One good thing about visiting him right after a meal is that we have a good excuse not to indulge in any of his kettle cakes," Roderick noted as Hagrid's house came into view around a bend in the path.

"That is certainly the truth," Delf agreed fervently.

"HAGRID!" Harry shouted as they neared his cottage. "OI! HAGRID!"

"Keep it down!" came a gruff voice from their right, the direction of the Forest. "Ye'll wake the baby cabbages."

Mystified, the trio turned as one towards source of the voice to see Hargid's enormous shape emerging from the dense undergrowth. He was covered head-to-toe in a shiny, gelatinous liquid of some sort, and he didn't look happy.

"Why shouldn't the baby cabbages wake up?" Delf called curiously.

"They'll bite yer fingers off when ye tend em, that's why," he said, coming to a stop and glowering down at them. "Nasty things, baby cabbages. Now what do you all want? I'm a mite busy righ' now."

Letting the cabbage comment slide for the moment, Harry replied, "Yeah, I think we've heard a bit about that. That's actually what we came to talk to you about, but now I'm more interested in what you've got all over your coat."

Hagrid looked down at himself.

"Blimey! I didn't even look at me-self. Here, come in… on roun' the back an' we'll talk," he corrected himself hastily, and started down the path past them.

"We knew about your dragon," Harry called after him.

Hagrid stopped walking. "Oh. Oh. Well then, come on in th' house and we'll talk," he said without looking at them. So they followed him down the last stretch of path, jogging to keep up with his enormous steps and shooting each other eager glances. There was something exciting and mysterious going on, and soon they would know all about it!

Hagrid's cottage smelled a little stranger than usual, which was saying something. The source of the odor was easy to identify: a Norwegian Ridgeback easily the size of Fang dominated the far corner of the room, gnawing on various unidentifiable bones and coughing smoke. It leered up at them resentfully from one slitted, beady eye.

Fang jumped up from where he'd been curled up under the table, whining and wagging his whole back end when he saw his huge master. Clearly, being cooped up with a toddler dragon was not his idea of a good time. Delf knelt and accepted being slobbered all over (dogs being the one exception to her general rule of cleanliness) while Hagrid lumbered over and crooned over his dragon.

"Hallo, Norbert! Mummy's home!"

This time when 'Norbert' coughed, a rather scary-looking gout of flame escaped too, and Hagrid leapt back, nearly knocking the dining table over in his attempt to escape a scorched scalp. Roderick and Harry hurried to steady him while still giving Norbert a very wide berth.

"Well now, that weren't very nice," Hagrid admonished, patting his crispy eyebrows. "I'll skip explainin' him, since ye lot seem to know everything already, though I won't ask how."

"Basically, we have brothers," Roderick said shortly.

Hagrid nodded. "Righ' then."

"But really, what's all over your coat?" Harry prompted.

Hagrid heaved a sigh. "Alrigh'. I'll tell ye three, but this is th' sort o' thing that otter stay quiet." They all nodded solemnly. "Unicorns are bein' killed in th' Forest. I'd jest found one 'fore I came out and ye all were here."

"Unicorns?" Roderick repeated, puzzled. "Why would anyone kill a unicorn?"

"Oh, all kinds o' reasons. T' get their horns, or their mane an' tail hairs, or their hooves, or their blood, or their hides... In this case, I'm thinkin' it's fer the blood. Each time I've come t' one, it's been cut somehow, though th' res' is whole."

"That's disgusting." Delf sounded horrified. All Harry could think of was that time he'd seen a unicorn at the edge of the Forest. It had looked at him, and for a moment, he had felt a deep sense of peace take hold of him. Kill something like that? The idea repulsed him.

"What do you think could be doing it?" he asked.

"No idea," Hagrid replied sadly. "Unicorns don' tend t' have natural predators like other creatures, so I'm forced t' think it migh' be a witch 'r wizard."

"But then they'd have to be either living in the Forest, or in Hogwarts or Hogsmeade, wouldn't they?" Delf asked

"Aye, and tha's just it. The centaur herd woulder found anyone livin' in th' Forest, and I know most folk in town an' up the castle, an' there's no one who'd do a thing like tha'."

They all sat in a depressed silence for a while, each trapped in their own head. Norbert coughed again and a shard of bone bounced across the floor. Fang whined.

"Alrigh', ye three, I have work t' be doin'." He pointed at a stack of lumber in the corner opposite from Norbert. "Fireproof, that. Fer Norbert's crate."

"Speaking of that, Hagrid, are you sure you want Tom and his friends handling Norbert's escape for you? They're not exactly…" he trailed off, at a loss for adjectives.

"Reliable?" Roderick suggested just as Delf offered "Smart." They glanced at each other and chuckled.

"No, they're fine. I dunno if ye know, 'Arry, but yer brother has this Cloak—"

"Oh, that. I get it." He suddenly wanted to be out of there. "Wish them luck for us." He started for the door.

"Bye, Hagrid," Roderick said.

"Bye-bye, Fang!" Delf cooed.

"See ye later," Hagrid called as they started back towards the castle.

"Woof!" woofed Fang.

Harry glared at his feet as they crunched along the gravel path. His friends, sensing his mood, didn't say anything for a while.

"Looks like that stung," Roderick finally ventured. They were halfway back to the school, just passing the tree at the top of the lake they like to study under when it was warm.

Harry sighed, trying to release his anger with his breath as he did when he meditated. "Yeah, a little. Tom having the Cloak does not make him a more trustworthy person; it just makes him able to get away with more."

"You know we agree with you, Harry," Delf said sympathetically.

He nodded, his scowl relaxing a little. "Anyway, what do we know about unicorn blood?"

Roderick and Delf looked at each other. "Nothing," they said in unison.

Harry smiled. "Me neither. Shall we adjourn to the Library for the rest of the morning?"

"Yeah, let's go," Roderick agreed.

"Did I just dream that far away time when all we had to worry about when we came to school was… school?" Delf asked dryly as they passed into the Entry Hall. "Now we've got all this nonsense with Quirrell and unicorns and brothers to deal with." She shook her head.

"Well, hopefully it'll get better next year," Roderick said.

"Don't be daft. My sister's coming next year."

"Oh, yeah. And isn't the last Weasley coming too?" Harry asked.

"Right, their only sister! I bet she'll look exactly the same," Roderick said.

"Of course she will! It would be like sacrilege to have a Weasley without red hair," Delf said contemptuously.

"That poor girl will never get a boyfriend," Roderick said sadly.

"Wait, why? Do you know her?" Harry demanded.

"No, but come on: she'll have, what, four older brothers in school with her?"

"Oh, right." Harry laughed. They reached the Library soon after, and quieted down as they entered the stacks. "So we'll probably want to focus on bestiaries mostly…" he murmured, running his finger along a spine.

"Or potions, maybe. Do you think people use it in anything?" Delf wondered, peering up at a high shelf.

"I've never heard of anything that uses it, but maybe… You could look for books on rare potions ingredients, I suppose."

They split up, each after basically the same thing. They were well accustomed to the Library (most Ravenclaw students were), and they regrouped at a small table near the back after about twenty minutes. Delf had three books on rare potions and unusual ingredients. Harry had selected Volume Seven of _The Magical Creature Index_ , which contained the letters S through V, and Roderick brought _A Guide To Rare Non-Humanesque Magical Animals_ along with a more standard bestiary.

They took their time flipping through each table of contents, searching for anything promising. None of Delf's potions books yielded anything, and she sulkily put them away. Roderick's general bestiary was also more or less useless, though it had an entry on unicorns that talked about the magical characteristics of their horns, but nothing else. _The Magical Creature Index_ was a little more helpful: it painstakingly listed every single magical animal ever discovered, including unicorns, and even gave a list of all of the magical properties they were known to possess. …Except in the case of unicorns they had neglected to say anything at all about the blood or hooves.

"That was frustrating," Roderick announced as they closed the _Index_.

"Yes, but it's not a huge problem if we don't find anything on the first go-round," Delf said, stretching her arms over her head. Harry resisted the urge to tickle her ribs, knowing he'd only get punched for his troubles. "The Library's huge, and we started with only a half dozen books."

"Fine, be reasonable," Roderick muttered as he pulled the _Guide To Rare Non-Humanesque Magical Animals_ forward.

"Let's see," Harry sighed, skimming the table of contents. "Here, 'Unicorn, properties of', page four hundred and seven." Pages thunked over on the front cover.

"This looks promising," Delf said, leaning in to examine the closely printed columns and detailed engraving.

" _'…Evident in legends and myths throughout history, even in Muggle lore,'_ blah blah blah, we know all that," Roderick read impatiently.

"Here." Delf was pointing to a spot halfway down the second column. " _'Many incredible magical properties are hidden within the unicorn's benign-seeming figure. Foremost, the horn is often coveted for its—'_ yes, okay, we know… Blood, blood, blood… here we are. _'The blood of a unicorn is amongst the strongest known healing tinctures in the world. It will bring a man back from the doorstep of death, no matter how severe the illness or injury.'_ "

"It sounds a bit like phoenix tears," Roderick pointed out.

"No, phoenixes have to give someone their tears: unicorns need to be killed for their blood," Harry countered.

"Yes, and there's more besides that," Delf said. Her tone was repressive. " _'But ware any who would take these measures: the slaughter of a unicorn is a frightful sin, and to imbibe of the blood is to enter into a terrible half-life, in which there is no joy or pleasure in any small delightful pastime, yet nor is there despair to be found in tragedy. The drinker shall have life, but no more.'_ " Delf stopped reading and looked up at Roderick and Harry. They were all very subdued.

"Who would want that?" Roderick asked quietly.

"Only someone who was already completely depraved," Harry responded softly.

"This isn't hypothetical though," Delf said, frowning at the page. "It's not 'who would' want that; it's 'who does'. Hagrid said multiple unicorns have already been killed in the Forest. Someone clearly wants desperately to stay alive, no matter the cost."

"So it would have to be someone who is very desperate," Roderick guessed.

"Yes, or very evil," Delf agreed.

"Or both," said Harry, very reluctantly. The other two looked at him warily, hearing his tone. "I once… When I nine or so, I overheard Dumbledore talking to my parents. It was late, and they thought I was asleep, but I had snuck down to the kitchen to steal some matches so that I could read at night. Dumbledore and Mum and Dad came into the dining room while I was in the kitchen, so I couldn't get out. You've been to my house: you know how it works." They nodded dutifully. "They were just wrapping up the conversation, but you know how Dumbledore summarizes everything at the end. Basically, Dumbledore wanted to start giving Tom lessons or something because he thought that someday Voldemort would come back to power."

Roderick's mouth fell open and Delf became extremely pale all of a sudden.

"I think… I think he's trying to come back now. It all fits: he uses unicorn blood to stay at least party alive. He comes to Hogwarts to get at Tom, more than likely. And then—"

And then… what? Roderick and Delf stared at him. Something fell together in his mind. He groaned.

"And then he uses Tom to get the Philosopher's Stone, which will give him the Elixir of Life. That must have been who Quirrell called 'Master' that night I overheard him!"

-o-

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

"Lily, we've just got a letter from Tom."

"Oh, what does he say this time?"

_Why is it that whenever you try and do something nice for someone else, you always wind up getting in trouble for it?_

"Uh-oh. What's he done now?"

"I don't think I want to know."

_All I wanted was to do a good turn for Hagrid and have an adventure,_

"There's no doubt about whose son he is, I'd say."

_but that prat Draco Malfoy had to go and get in the way. I wound up with my second ever detention, from my own Head of House, no less, just for helping to dispose of a dangerous animal and saving everyone from a lot of grief._

"Howler it is."

"Lily, you always said that you'd never use Howlers, remember? 'They're an embarrassment to the kids' and all that?"

"He deserves to be embarrassed if he plans on acting like this all year."

_We would have gotten away with it_

"I blame you for this, James!"

"Sorry, dear."

_if we hadn't been so excited that we left the Cloak at the top of the Tower._

"So wrong… He has a lot to learn."

"James…"

"Sorry, dear."

_I'm going to work harder to be a proper Marauder, Dad, just like you told me to._

"What? I never said that!"

"Of course you didn't. But I think that little talk about having humility over Christmas did more harm than good…"

_But there is a silver lining: in no way could Harry have done better than me in this. People may think that he's cooler, smarter, and pretty much superior to me, but I'm definitely the bravest between us._

"Yeah, he totally misconstrued all of that…"

_I'm a true Gryffindor, like a Potter should be._

"We're going to have to sit down and talk all of this through, the whole family."

"Agreed."

_Love, Tom_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus goes possibly the shortest relationship I've ever written. But Harry and Cho are only twelve and thirteen (or maybe both thirteen, I forget when her birthday is), so I think this feels alright. And we even have some movement on the plot! Will wonders never cease?
> 
>  
> 
> Half credit for this story goes to my friend fire1: we developed and outlined this idea together and there's no way it would exist without her. Go check her page out!
> 
> All characters are owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros, etc.
> 
> E.I. signing out


	6. Down The Trap Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hay last chapter this week: and the end of year one.  
> we love hearing from you and any kudos you may want to leave us. have a good week everyone.   
> Fire1~

_Down The Trap Door_

Focusing on revisions was even more difficult than usual now that they knew Voldemort was traipsing around Hogwarts looking for a path to immortality. Not to mention, Tom was visibly wilting under the strain of final exams, and needed even closer observation than usual. Thankfully, the workload seemed to be keeping him out of trouble for the time being.

The exams were grueling. In Transfiguration, the parrot Harry transformed into a guinea pig insisted on screeching like its feathery former form until Professor McGonagall came over and tapped it sharply with her wand. In Potions, his Dizziness Draught (while it did make him incredibly dizzy) made him cough green bubbles for an hour afterwards. After Care of Magical Creatures, his throat hurt from trying to produce the rudimentary Mermish Professor Kettleburn had made them recite to a couple of unimpressed-looking mermen who ended up leaving halfway through because Todric Gamp said something which might have referred to genitalia. It didn't seem likely there would be a Mermish section for later sections of Care of Magical Creatures.

"I'm doomed," Roderick groaned as they sat down for dinner Friday night. "My puppet was singing in German instead of French during Charms and I couldn't get it to dance at all. I had to use wingarduim leviosa and sort of poke it the whole time. When did we even learn to do that?"

"That day two month ago when you went to the the infirmary for the flu," Delf said tiredly. "But never mind. Nothing could be worse than my Runes translation. How could I have mixed up 'fwooper' and 'runespoor'? I'm sure I'm getting a T."

"No, what we're all getting 'T's in is Divination," Harry chuckled, spooning mashed sweet potatoes onto his plate.

This elicited a grin from Roderick. "I wouldn't be too sure! Did you see her face when I predicted you'd meet your doom in a dungeon full of fire? She ate it up!"

"That was pretty inspired," Delf said admiringly. "I had Kelly Middlebrow as a partner in that one, and she was not amused when I told her that she would never get what she desired."

Harry laughed. "And what did she say to that?"

"That I was too much of a friend to make that happen," Delf replied, face turning oddly pink.

"I thought you hated her," Harry said around a mouthful of pot roast.

"I do," she agreed. "And she kept shooting me dirty looks afterwards, so she must have thought I was serious."

"Uncle Sirius? Why would she—? Oh. I must be more tired than I thought."

"Oh no, Harry's doing accidental word-play! Put him to bed!" Roderick laughed.

They were all pretty exhausted though, so they headed up to Ravenclaw Tower and sleep not soon after the remains dessert had disappeared down into the kitchen again.

The next morning, Harry couldn't even remember falling asleep, though he awoke very refreshed and much less fatalistic about his exam marks. He thought breakfast was the most delicious thing he'd ever eaten, though it was only eggs and juice, as usual. Conversation was cheerful and decidedly non-academic until Roderick noticed that Dumbledore was not presiding over the meal from the professor's table as he should have been.

"Dumbledore's done a bunk," he pointed out around a mouthful of thick porridge sweetened with dark sugar, milk, and strawberries. Roderick was not one to deny his sweet tooth.

"So?" asked Delf grumpily. "We've just done finals: I don't want to think about anything important."

"No, wait," Harry said, sitting up straight and setting his pumpkin juice aside. "Something's up. Quirrell's not there either."

The other two scanned the top table anxiously, and then Roderick cursed under his breath.

"Quick, is Tom here?" Harry asked. If Tom had gone gallivanting off on some harebrained scheme to save the day, the situation was very dire indeed.

"Yes, he just came in with his two friends," Delf said, pointing towards the door. Harry sagged with relief when he saw his brother and Ron and Hermione sit down near the middle of Gryffindor table and begin piling their plates high.

"Alright," he said in a low voice. "Dumbledore's gone, which means You-Know-Who feels like he has free run of the castle, or rather, Quirrell does. Fluffy's guarding the Philosopher's Stone, and since Tom is safe, we know that will be his immediate objective. Dumbledore ignored it when I tried to warm him, so it stands to reason that the other teachers will as well. I don't think we have much of a choice but to go after him ourselves. Does that make sense?"

"Well, no, it doesn't really," Roderick told him bluntly. "This whole thing doesn't make sense. But I see what you mean. I think you're right."

"How to we know Dumbledore doesn't just have the sniffles?" Delf asked sulkily. Harry glared at her. "Fine! Fine, you're right. What are we waiting for?"

Harry blinked. "Nothing, I suppose."

"Let's go then," she said. "We're starting off facing a giant three-headed dog and ending with the Dark Lord. What could go wrong?"

"Your wit, while scintillating, is not appreciated right now," Roderick told her as they all stood up from the table and headed out of the Great Hall.

"Do you think we should get the Map?" Harry wondered aloud as they started up the main stairs that led to the rest of the castle, including the third storey corridor on the right-hand side.

"No. Why would we?" Delf asked. "We know where everyone we're concerned about is, or can guess pretty accurately."

"Yeah," Roderick agreed. "Dumbledore's absent; Quirrell's on his way to the Stone and the Elixir of Life; Tom's stuffing his face; and we're about to go risk life and limb doing something that isn't even our responsibility."

"Your wit is _not_ scintillating, and not appreciated either," Delf informed him.

They were on the third floor by now, doing something between a jog and a fast walk as they crossed the castle.

"I just thought of something," Roderick said as they rounded the final corner before the locked door. "Fluffy probably won't be the only safeguard in place down there. I mean, think: it's the _Philosopher's Stone_. They'd be mental not to have some pretty heavy protection."

This hadn't occurred to Harry for some reason, and now he felt stupid for it. "We'll deal with that when we get to it," he said after a moment. Delf snorted. She knew what he was covering up.

Soft harp music and the scent of really bad dog breath was what greeted the trio as they surreptitiously opened the door and slipped into the hall. Fluffy's three heads were all snoring with impressive volume, gigantic ears twitching and paws trembling at dreams of running through the Forbidden Forest, in hot pursuit of some seriously big rabbit, or some such.

"Well, that's convenient," Delf whispered, but just then the harp fell silent, and all of Fluffy's eyes began to move under their lids before slowly rolling open. Whether out of fear or quick thinking, the other two hid as best they could behind Harry, who was less likely to be ripped to bits.

"Top of the morning, Fluffy," Harry called genially. "Hope we're not intruding, but you see, we'd rather like to pop down that trap door there, the one you're standing on."

Fluffy's heads grinned happily, and one of them started drooling while another whined, hoping for play time.

"This is the best guard dog they could come up with?" Roderick asked scornfully.

"I'm not complaining," Delf said fervently. "Shall I charm the harp again? If Quirrell used the spell I'm thinking of, he's about a half hour ahead of us."

"Yes, go for it. We should get a move on, I think," Harry said, scratching behind one of Fluffy's ears. Delf went over and began to mumble over the instrument, tapping it with her wand every so often.

"I think you jinxed us at the beginning of the year, mate," Roderick said. "Just wanting a calm year and all that. This is about the least calm as it gets."

"You can say that again," Harry murmured as the harp started playing again in the corner.

"What did you do to it?" Roderick asked bemusedly as Delf rejoined them. Fluffy began to drowse above them.

"What do you mean?" Delf sounded defensive. One of Fluffy's heads yawned hugely.

"That doesn't sound like what is was playing before. I thought you were going to use the same charm as Quirrel." Fluffy sank to the floor and began snoring.

"I did use the same spell," she said coldly. "But you have to specify the song, and for some reason I could only think of the Weird Sisters."

"Well, if Fluffy doesn't mind 'Love Is a Howler' as a lullaby, I can't think of anything to improve," Harry said firmly.

Roderick shrugged and crouched next to the trap door. "It doesn't seem to be cursed," he said. He reached out and touched the handle with a forefinger. Delf and Harry watched him warily. "It doesn't feel like there's any magic in it at all, actually. I guess they were counting on Fluffy to be too much of a deterrent."

"I can't blame them, really," Delf murmured. Roderick laughed and pulled the trapdoor open.

"Let's see what's down there…" Harry said and squatted next to Roderick. Delf joined them, murmuring "Lumos," to her wand and pointing it down into the mystery below.

"Doesn't look like much of anything, frankly," Roderick said after a moment.

"I think I see a vine…?" Delf said.

"A plant then. Good, a soft landing." Harry didn't sound as quite cheerful as he had meant to.

"Yeah, unless it's thorny," Roderick said glumly.

"Or poisonous," Delf added.

"Or not even a plant to begin with," said Roderick.

"You two are not being helpful!" Harry exclaimed. "Instead of looking for worst case scenarios, try looking for something useful like a ladder."

They were silent for a heartbeat, before Delf spoke up: "No ladder that I can see."

"Well, I'm best in Herbology," Roderick announced. "I'll go first."

Though Harry had the vague notion that he should go before his friends, he couldn't figure out how to articulate this before Roderick had taken a firm grip on his wand and hopped down into the hole. A moment later, the very anxious pair of remaining Ravenclaws heard a crunch and a grunt, and then Roderick called, "I'm out of the way! Next person can come!"

Before Delf could offer, Harry scooted off the edge of the floor into the waiting darkness. The landing wasn't bad, as Roderick was aiming his wand's light at the landing space. Harry rolled out of the way as Roderick called up for Delf.

Something felt wrong as Delf landed next to him. He couldn't move his legs. Something was holding them, wrapping tighter and tighter—

"It's Devil's Snare!" he exclaimed. "Hold still!" A pair of sharp gasps indicated that his friends had also realized what they were facing.

Lying immobile was excruciatingly hard as the motile plants slithered up his body, constricting him and sucking him down. He hoped to Merlin that they weren't being lowered into a vat of flesh-corroding potion or something equally lethal, but the fear passed as he suddenly fell several meters onto a hard flagstone floor. Delf landed next to him not a moment later, crying out in pain as she hit her elbow. Harry scrambled over to her just as Roderick fell next to them, expelling a great whoosh of air on impact. "Well, that wasn't so bad, was it now?" he said chipperly, sitting up and touching the back of his head gingerly. Delf grimaced and rubbed her arm as Harry helped her up. "You alright?" the blonde boy asked when he saw.

"Yeah, I've just cracked my elbow," she explained. "It won't slow me down."

"Right. Good. So where are we? What now?" Roderick wanted to know.

"The corridor goes that way." Delf pointed down a short passage with her good arm.

As they trooped further and further down it, a strange buzzing began to distinguish itself from the sound of dripping water.

"It sounds sort of like rain on a tile roof," Harry said, puzzled.

"Or a lot of tiny birds flying," Roderick added.

"Please don't let it be bugs," Delf begged.

Harry laughed as he opened the door.

"Oh!" was Delf's reaction.

"Clever," was Roderick's.

"I honestly would never have guessed that," said Harry.

Really, who would anticipate flying keys? Professor Flitwick had outdone himself.

"I will bet my firstborn child that we have to catch the key that unlocks that door," Roderick said, pointing across the room at what was apparently the only exit. Walking under a swarm of flying keys with brilliantly multi-coloured wings was a disconcerting experience, Harry thought as the three of them crossed the room for a closer look at the lock.

"Alohamora," said Delf imperiously, waving her wand. Nothing happened. "It was worth a try," she said defensively when Harry and Roderick looked at her skeptically.

Roderick bent down to examine the enchanted mechanism. "If the key matches this, we're looking for a large silver one. It'll probably be a little the worse for wear if Quirrell got through already. See anything?" This last was directed at Harry, who had already turned to bend his Seeker's eye upon the shifting cloud of slim metal bodies.

"Yes! Up there, that one with the broken wing!" Harry cried, pointing to a key matching Roderick's description that was wavering up around the stone girders. "But how are we supposed to get to it?"

Delf touched his arm. "We didn't see those coming in," she said, pointing to the wall by the entrance. Three broomsticks leaned against the stone.

"And there's the one Quirrell must have used," Roderick added, pointing to a corner were a rather beat-up broomstick lay abandoned.

Harry looked at it curiously. "There's no reason for it to be in that condition," he said thoughtfully. "The keys aren't moving that fast, so ours should be easy to catch. And there's no reason for the bristles to be so bent. The only way to do that is to hit something when you're going backwards too fast or to land badly. Something's fishy here."

"I bet there's a reason beyond hiding our one that all these other keys are here," Roderick hypothesized. "You see all those little notches taken out of that broomstick he used? It looks like something small hit it really hard."

"You think that if Harry touches the broom, all the other keys will attack him," Delf summed up.

"Yes."

"Well, bugger to that!" Harry exclaimed, and pulled out his wand. "Immobulus!" As one, the keys froze.

"Good," said Roderick. "But our one is still about fifteen meters up. Do you think Summoning it would awaken all the others?"

"Yes," Delf answered, though the question hadn't been for her.

"Does anyone have an alternative?" Harry asked.

Delf and Roderick looked at each other. "No," they said together.

"Bugger me," Harry muttered. "Accio blue-winged key!"

The room seemed to vibrate as all the keys shivered back to life. The wounded silver key glided towards them as all the rest of the keys began to buzz their wings ominously and started to bear down on the trio of humans.

"Come on, come on," Harry muttered, his arm stretched up for the key that was still gliding down towards them. The other keys were beginning to swarm and buzz unhappily and as one, they dove at the trio of interlopers, but by then, Harry had the silver key tight in his hand and was racing for the door.

"Hurry, hurry!" Delf screamed, waving to Harry to get the door unlocked. He fumbled with the key, listening and hoping for the lock to click—there!

They tumbled through and slammed the door behind them, wincing at the _thud-thud-thud-thud_ of the flock of keys burying themselves in the wood behind them. They sat silent for a moment, panting, until Roderick gasped, "We should leave it open – the door – for if the teachers come through."

"Good idea," Harry agreed, and hauled himself up. There were about three dozen keys embedded in the door and the frame around it, their wings waving feebly.

"Those things are unnatural." Delf shivered.

"Thanks for that, I couldn't tell…" Roderick muttered. Delf smacked him with her good hand.

"So," said Harry loudly. "What's next?" As one, they turned and surveyed the terrain in front of them. There wasn't much to see. As far as Harry could tell, they were facing a large, dimly lit cavern-like room with what appeared to be two parallel lines of statues on each side of the floor.

"This is weird," Roderick announced, stepping forward. Suddenly, torches sprang to life along the walls, revealing the room's true intentions.

"It's a chess set!" Delf exclaimed. "A huge, evil chess set!"

"Evil?" Harry repeated.

"Well, I'm assuming there's a catch. We couldn't just _pick up_ the key, we had to catch it. We only got past Fluffy because Harry knew him. The only reason we knew about Devil's Snare was because Roderick misread an assignment last year. I don't even want to think of what this game is up to."

"Fantastic. Now I'm terrified and I don't even know why," Roderick muttered.

"Then, shall we see what the catch is?" Harry suggested.

"Yeah, let's go," Roderick agreed reluctantly. Together, they started across the checkerboard floor, weaving through the first two rows of pieces. As they neared the far side, however, the short pawn figures all drew a pair of broadswords from under their turtle-like armor, blocking their path.

"That was… not subtle," Roderick noted, as they all backed away to the centre of the board.

"So what do we do?" Harry asked.

"I think… I think we have to play across to whatever's next," Delf said slowly. "With ourselves as pieces, I mean."

"How does that even work?" Roderick demanded.

"Alright." Delf was suddenly in charge. "Roderick, you be queen side rook. Harry, you be queen side knight. I'll be queen side castle." As one, the three pieces she had specified began to move: Harry's knight dismounted and walked off the board. Roderick's rook thrust its staff into the marble floor so that it stood upright and followed the knight. Delf's castle –

"Stop, castle! I want to sit on top of you," she commanded. The large marble figure stopped short and slid obediently back into its square. "Okay. Everyone take their spots."

They did. Harry clambered onto his stone horse, Roderick yanked his staff out of the ground, and Delf used the nearest pawn as a stepstool to get on top of her tower.

"Now what?" Roderick asked of no one in particular.

"White moves first," was Delf's answer, and as if on cue, one of the pawns across the board slid two spaces forward.

Of the three of them, Delf played chess the best, so they listened to her as she called moves from her crow's eye perch. It was a vicious game. Delf tried to keep the three of them out of the violence, but defensive measures were at times needed, and more than once, Harry's horse reared up under him to strike their opponent down, while other times it was Roderick's staff that struck down a foe, or Delf's sturdy tower of marble that flattened an enemy.

"Wait!" Delf called after twenty minutes of silence broken only by the crash and tumble of marble chunks hitting the ground and her terse instructions. "I need your input. That rook is all that's standing in the way of us mating the king. If we can move him out of the way, there are a few ways we could take him out."

"Then what's the problem?" Harry called back. "How do we make him move?"

"That's what I need your input on. Roderick, either you or I could move in such a way that would get the rook out of our path. The problem is, it would be a suicide mission. The rook would take us and that would let us mate the king."

Without comment, Roderick strode forward, drawing a long diagonal across the board, his rook's staff striking the board dramatically as his torn and dusty robes flew out behind him.

"Hey, no! Roderick, wait!" Delf shouted. "You bloody idiot, get back! I wanted your opinion, not your own stupid decision!"

Harry could anticipate what was coming next, and it made his blood run cold to see his friend striding to what was surely his doom.

"Hello," Roderick said to the other rook as if he wasn't about to get his head lopped off. "Would you care to move, please? You're rather in our way."

The imperturbable marble figure turned 50 degrees to face the comparatively small human challenger, slowly raised its staff, and struck down, hard. Roderick crumpled under the blow, having had almost no time to get his own staff up to defend himself. Delf screamed as he fell, and Harry couldn't look away. Was he alive? Was he alright? This wasn't meant to have happened!

He felt like he had cotton stuffed him his ears, but he dimly heard Delf tell their other castle to mate the king, and after a moment, the clang of the crown falling upon the marble could be heard.

"Roderick!" Delf shouted, slipping down the side of her tower. "Harry come on, the game's over. We've won!"

Slightly dazed, Harry climbed off his horse and followed her to their friend's side.

"He's breathing," Delf reported as he came up behind her kneeling form. The relief was evident in her voice. "He's unconscious though."

"Why is—" Harry cleared his throat and tried again. "Why is he bleeding so much?"

"Head wounds always bleed too much for their own good," she replied. She picked up the edge of Roderick's robes and waved her wand at them, muttering something. A six-inch wide ribbon detached itself from the rest of the fabric and shivered itself free of dust, and she pulled it free of his legs and began wrapping his head.

"I think he'll be alright." She sounded doubtful, but Harry clung to her words. If he wasn't alright… If something happened to Roderick, his best friend… it would be his fault, Harry's own fault. Roderick had even said at breakfast that going after Quirrell was a stupid idea.

Delf stood up next to him. "I really do think he'll be fine," she murmured, peeking up at Harry's expression. "And I don't know how to do anything more for him."

"Yeah," Harry agreed heavily. "Me neither."

"We should probably move on if we want to catch Quirrell though," she said.

"But—we ought to stay with—"

"Harry, he's not dead," Delf snapped impatiently. "So unless you've randomly become a trained Healer in the last five seconds, the best thing we can do is forge ahead and stop Quirrell. He would say the same thing if it were me unconscious on the floor."

Harry pulled himself straight. He hated to say it, but… "You're right. I don't like it, but you're right. Come on." With one last look at their friend, the two Ravenclaws turned and paced the length of the checkered board to the door on the far wall. No militant statues reached out to stop them this time.

A disgusting smell reached their noses before the torches flickered to life in the next room. At first Harry thought there had been a large, lumpen boulder left in the middle of the floor, but—

"Ugh!" he and Delf exclaimed together. It was a troll, which a certain someone had gone to the trouble of knocking out for them already.

"Thank you, Professor Quirrell," Delf murmured as they tiptoed around the slumbering goliath.

The next room was deceptively innocuous. There was nothing in it but a table with seven bottles of liquid lined up in a row. But as the two of them stepped forward, purple flames sprung up behind them, and black flames leapt to life ahead.

"Here," said Delf, pulling Harry across to the table.

"What are all these?" Harry wondered, picking up a small bit of parchment at the edge of the desk.

"Professor Snape's contribution, clearly," the girl responded, peering over his shoulder at the page he had picked up. "What's that?"

"The clue that will help us get through that, as far as I can tell." He nodded toward flaming barrier.

" _Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,"_ he read aloud _. "Two of us will help you, whichever you would find._  
One among us seven will let you move ahead.  
Another will transport the drinker back instead.  
Two among our number hold only nettle wine.  
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in the line.  
Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore.  
To help in your choice, we give you these clues four:  
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide,  
you will always find it hiding on nettle wine's left side;  
different are those who stand at either end,  
but if you would move onward, neither is your friend;  
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size.  
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;  
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right are twins,  
once you taste them, though different at first sight."

"That doesn't tell us anything!" Delf protested.

"No, it does," Harry corrected. "It's just like a riddle from the eagle knocker. Let's think for a moment." He paced back and forth along the table, tapping bottles and passing judgment as he did so. "It's this one," he eventually announced, selecting a small vial with a viscous black potion inside. "And this is the one that goes back through the purple fire."

"There's barely any in either," Delf said warily. "Just enough for one person each, I think."

"I should go forward," Harry said immediately. "This all was my idea in the first place, and I refuse to let anyone else get hurt anymore because of me, especially you. Roderick was enough."

Delf stared at him unhappily, her eyes the hazel of deep worry. "I hate this, Harry. It was your idea, true, but Roderick and I both agreed to go along with it. I can't help but feel that splitting up is a bad idea."

Harry shook his head. "I know. But we have to stop Quirrell, and only one of us can go forward. Go take care of Roderick. Tell him we knocked that troll out on our own: he'll be so furious he missed it."

Her lips twisted: she was amused, but didn't want to show it.

"Okay, fine. But promise me one thing."

"Sure, what is it?"

"Come out safe."

"Of course. I promise."

"I'm going to hold you to that," she said, deadly serious, and before Harry had time to respond, she had swallowed her potion and darted back the way they'd come, through the fire and back to Roderick and the ruined chess set.

Harry shook his head and looked down at the tiny vial of potion in his hand.

"Here we go," he mumbled, drank it down, and faced the flames. It felt like ice was coursing through his whole body, and he shivered convulsively.

Going through fire is not something humans are designed to do, generally speaking. But when Harry walked through the flaming black barrier, all he felt was a sort of tickle, like a light breeze or a current of water that wasn't wet. It felt nearly friendly. As if it was politely saying 'you may not want to go through there, sir, but I will not try to stop you'.

When Harry opened his eyes again, what he saw was both surprising and exactly as he expected: Quirrell was there, as he had known he would be. But he was standing in front of the Mirror of Erised, and Harry had not figured that in. His scar twinged angrily.

"Hello, professor," he said warily.

"Ah yes, Mr Potter…" The teacher's stammer had suddenly disappeared, he noted. "...right on time." Quirrell didn't turn to face him, leaving Harry to look at the turban on the back of his head.

He didn't understand. "You realize I'm not Tom," he verified. Quirrell had to be expecting Tom: that was what made this whole thing make sense.

Quirrell laughed, a low, strange laugh, as if at some private joke. "Oh, yes, Harry, I know you are not your brother. That interloper, that useless fake! When it is you who should have been the famous one… To think such a mistake could have been made, and by Dumbledore no less…"

Something clenched tight in Harry's gut. "What are you talking about?"

A third, high-pitched voice rang out unexpectedly. Pain shot up Harry's forehead. "Ironic, isn't it, boy? I, cast out of my body, and you, relegated to the shadows by a brother who had the audacity to claim he was the one who defeated me, the all-powerful Dark Lord Voldemort… How amused I was when news of this mistake reached my ears…"

Harry looked around desperately, one hand clamped over his forehead, the other clutching his wand. Voldemort was in the castle! In Dumbledore's absence, he had finally gotten in! But where was he? His voice seemed to echo from everywhere.

"Do you know what this is, boy?" Quirrell asked, indicating the Mirror before him. "It shows me what I want. I see the Stone. I have it in my hand to present to my Master! But how do I get it? How do I get it out?!"

"The boy knows," hissed Voldemort's disembodied voice. "Ask the boy…" The sentence started with a snake-like hiss and ended in a gasp. Fear crawled up Harry's spine like a spider, and he raised his wand helplessly.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Quirrell then howled another word that sent ropes flying towards Harry to wrap his legs and arms tight even as his wand clattered away across the floor. The ropes dragged him forward, towards Quirrell, towards the Mirror, and towards whatever terrible thing he would be forced to do. His scar sang with pain with every inch he drew closer. "Stand," Quirrell snarled. The ropes unraveled, and Harry stood gingerly. He was directly in front of the Mirror now, his own pale, green-eyed, black-haired, scarred image replicated next to that of the deranged professor. Just as when he had stood next to Dumbledore, there was nothing unusual in the reflection.

"The boy alone must stand before it…" Voldemort wheezed. He sounded closer now. Was he behind the Mirror? Why would he hide? Quirrell stepped aside, and Harry braced himself to not be surprised at the appearance of his family, but… nothing happened. His mother, his father, his brother… even if they were only imagined, magical hallucinations, they did not support him now. Harry stood alone in the Mirror of Erised.

"What do you see?" Quirrell demanded eagerly. "Where is the Stone?!"

"I don't know," Harry responded, an odd mixture of relief and heartbreak scraping his throat raw. "I must have just become the happiest man alive, because I don't see anything."

"He knows!" Voldemort wailed from wherever he was hiding. "He knows!"

"I'm not lying! I don't—" But… wait. There. Mirror-Harry was reaching into the pocket of his robes and pulling out an asymmetrical red rock. A stone. The Philosopher's Stone. Then Mirror-Harry smiled, and put it back in his pocket. Real Harry touched his own pocket, not quite willing to believe—but somehow, it was there. Through the fabric of his dusty, smelly robes, the Stone was there. "I don't know where it is," he finished, but his voice lacked conviction. He knew he was lying now.

Quirrell swore. "Get out of the way," he snarled, not hearing Harry's deception. Harry backed cautiously towards the flaming exit.

Unfortunately, Voldemort was not so gullible. "He lies…" he hissed. "He is lying…"

Quirrell spun. "Boy! Come back! What did you see? Where is the Stone?"

"Let me see him…" Voldemort whispered. "I want him to face me…" Harry was becoming more confused and terrified by the second.

"Master," Quirrell begged. "You are not strong…"

"I am strong enough… Reveal me to him…"

Harry felt like he had been petrified as he watched Quirrell begin to unwind his turban. What was he doing? There seemed to be a mile of fabric to undo. But then it was gone, and Quirrell's head looked naked and small, like a seed without its protective shell. He turned slowly on the spot.

Fear so strong he couldn't remember how to move flooded Harry's mind. _There was a_ _face on the back of his head._ A ghastly, pale white face, a face with slits for nostrils and furious red eyes.

"So _you_ are Harry Potter…" it whispered. "To think… when I heard them celebrate in your brother's name, I always assumed they meant you… The Boy Who Lived… The one who reduced me to my current state… As you see, I am but shadow and vapour since that night… By sharing the body of another, I have physical form… But soon, the Elixir of Life shall give me a new body of my own… So give me that Stone in your pocket, why don't you?"

_How could he know?_ Harry stumbled backwards, following the heat of the flaming door at his back. He had to get away! Away from the madman Quirrell and the thing on his head.

"Think of it, boy…" Voldemort hissed. "All those years spent in the shadow of a pompous, undeserving brat whose fame is based on a lie… We could make them pay, you and I…"

Quirrell was pacing carefully backwards, so that Voldemort could keep eye-contact with Harry.

"Together, we could show them how great you really are…"

"NO!" Harry shouted, and turned to run for it.

"SEIZE HIM!" Voldemort screamed. Harry didn't get far before he felt Quirrell's hand grab his wrist, and a stabbing pain seared up his scar. He felt as though his head would burst. Shouting, he struggled in Quirrell's grip, and to his amazement, the man let go. The agony in his forehead lessened, and Harry gazed around wildly to fend off Quirrell's next attack. He saw him hunched over a small distance away, looking with horror at his blistering hands: it looked like he had thrust them into a fire.

"SEIZE HIM!" Voldemort shrieked.

"Master, my hands…" Quirrell whimpered.

"You fool! Seize the boy!"

Crying with pain, Quirrell lurched after him, his hands locking around Harry's neck. Pain exploded across his forehead. This was worse than anything he had ever experienced—worse than anything he could imagine. But even through the fog before his eyes, he could still make out Quirrell howling like an injured dog.

"My hands!" he screamed. "I cannot touch him – my hands!" He let go, and stared down at his raw, burned palms in terror. Now Harry understood: something about him, whatever it was, made Quirrell unable to touch him without suffering immense pain.

"You fool!" Voldemort screeched. "Kill him and have done!"

Sobbing, Quirrell fumbled for his wand and leveled it at Harry. But something – instinct, supernatural intervention, fate – made him reach up and claw Quirrell's face, made him grab hold and not let go, no matter the pain. Quirrell screamed.

Harry may have screamed also, but he frankly couldn't tell. He felt sure he would go blind and deaf and dumb… Voldemort was shrieking "KILL HIM! KILL HIM! YOU FOOL!" Quirrell was crying with inexpressible pain, just making a mindless noise. Someone else was yelling "Harry! Harry!" Who?

He lost his hold on Quirrell… His vision dimmed… He fell backwards into oblivion…

-o-

He felt sort of dead.

His body ached worse than that time he crashed into the goal post in pursuit of the Snitch.

He couldn't open his eyes. His eyelids weighed too much.

"—unconscious for three days?"

It sounded like Madam Pomfrey.

The words drifted to him from far away. He didn't find them particularly interesting.

He felt like he might like to sleep some more. Yes, perhaps he could rest a little… Then he would get up and beat Quirrell…

-o-

The silence woke him.

It was the sort of silence people make when they're trying to be quiet.

He struggled to open one sticky eyelid, then the other. The world was blurry, and too bright.

"Harry!" said a voice on his left. Delf. He couldn't turn his head to see.

"Oh, sweetheart! You're awake!" This from his right. Mum?

"Are you alright? How do you feel?" That one was Dad.

He blinked a few times. He was in the Hospital Wing, he could see. A row of neatly made up beds lined the far wall. A beam of light from the window above his head fell across his legs and the torso of Albus Dumbledore, who stood at the foot of the bed. He blinked some more, just to make sure of what he was seeing. Dumbledore didn't disappear, so he turned his attention elsewhere.

His mum, his dad, and Tom sat on his right. His parents looked relieved but terrified, and Tom looked surly. Delf and Roderick sat on the left side of his bed, looking excited and relieved.

"You alright?" he mumbled to Roderick, waving vaguely at his head. He ignored his family out of habit.

Roderick laughed. "Harry, I jammed my toe compared to what you did. You should be asking yourself that question!"

Harry took him seriously. " _Am_ I alright?"

"Dumbledore says—" Lily began, but Delf cut her off.

"You're fine. You were nearly dead for a while there, but you're all fixed up now."

"Good." He lay back against his pillows and closed his eyes.

"He is not 'fine'," Lily disagreed sharply. "He has been unconscious for four days and was barely alive for the first one. Being _conscious_ is not the same as being _healed_. He'll need a lot more time before he's ready to so much as get out of bed."

"Sounds boring," Harry grunted.

"Your mother is right, Harry," Dumbledore intoned. "You've just come through a terrible ordeal and what you need now is rest."

"Yeah, about that," Harry said, struggling to sit up. He was getting his energy back now, and he wanted some things answered for. "Where's the Stone? What happened to Quirrell? How did I get here? Why did Voldemort tell me—" Things were slowly coming back to him. But logic and common sense were arriving fast after, and they told him that telling some of the people gathered around him certain of the things that Voldemort had said would not be productive or get him answers. "I mean… I was about to say why did Voldemort say he was expecting Tom, but that makes total sense," he improvised lamely. Delf and Roderick looked at him sharply, hearing the lie, while Tom looked slightly mollified.

"You deserve to understand everything that has happened Harry, trust me when I say that. But right now you need to sleep and get well. Everything shall be made known in time." Harry locked eyes with the Headmaster, weighing whether or not to trust him. Finally, he nodded.

Just then, Madam Pomfrey bustled up. "Alright! You've seen that he's alive and well! Now be off with you. This boy needs rest!"

"We'll come visit you soon, sweetheart. Rest up now," Lily said, leaning in to kiss him on the forehead. The memory of the pain he had experienced there so recently was enough to make him flinch away, and he saw his mother's expression fall. Before he could figure out how to explain himself, she was gone, James with an arm around her waist and Tom trailing after, throwing Harry angry and confused looks over his shoulder.

Roderick, Delf and Dumbledore were left. "Out with you," snapped the matron. "You may visit again when he's stronger."

Harry glanced over at his two friends. 'I'll tell you everything, I promise', his expression said. 'Just not now.' Understanding him perfectly, they stood up and walked out without a word.

Madam Pomfrey tapped her foot at Dumbledore. "Headmaster, the rules of healing cannot be bent, even for the likes of you."

"Yes, I understand. However, I find it quite unlikely that young Mr. Potter is going to get any rest whatsoever until he has had a few of his concerns put to rest. Would you mind?"

"Very well. But five minutes only!"

"I wouldn't dream of asking for more," Dumbledore called after her retreating form. Then he took the seat on Harry's right that his mother had recently vacated.

"You were expecting to have this conversation with Tom, weren't you?" Harry asked after a moment.

Dumbledore nodded ruefully. "I can't say that I'm not a little taken aback by this turn of events. And I'm more than a little curious as to how they came about."

"I didn't trust you to protect Tom," Harry said bluntly. "Correctly, as it turns out."

Dumbledore shook his head admiringly. "You should have been in Gryffindor, Harry."

"No I shouldn't have," he replied coldly. A short, awkward pause ensued. "Where is the Stone?"

"Destroyed," the headmaster said simply.

"But what about Mr. Flamel?" Harry asked, ignoring the feeling of betrayal in his gut: he'd gone through all _that_ just so that the Stone could be destroyed?

"Nicholas and Pernelle have enough Elixir left to set their affairs in order. But then, yes, they will die."

Harry absorbed this information. "I expect I'd be alright with that too if I were six hundred."

"Then you are very wise. And after all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure." Harry wondered if there was a part of Dumbledore's mind that sat around all day and made up phrases like that just in case there was even an excuse to use them.

"Why was I able to get the Stone out of the Mirror when Quirrell wasn't?"

"Ah! An excellent question. I placed the enchantments so that they would work in such a way that someone who only wanted to find the Stone could retrieve it. Someone who wanted to use it would see themselves drinking the Elixir or surrounded by gold or what have you. One of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something."

Unimpressed by the man's ego, Harry said nothing.

Dumbledore sighed. "It's true that I was expecting Tom to face Voldemort, Harry. But that does not mean I'm not incredibly impressed and indebted to you. Very few people could have done what you did."

"Thank you, sir," he replied stiffly.

"Time's up." Harry had never been gladder to see Madam Pomfrey.

"Very well, very well," Dumbledore said, standing to his full, impressive height. He was especially imposing since Harry was lying down. "I wish you a speedy recovery, Harry."

And with that, the headmaster was gone. Madam Pomfrey gave him a light Sleeping Draught, and he slid easily into unconsciousness.

-o-

"You didn't miss much," Roderick comforted him, sniffing a set of robes before throwing them into his trunk. "Slytherin won the Cup… again. Dumbledore didn't say anything about what we did, which feels like a backhanded insult. But it was just like any other feast, really."

Harry grunted. He had gotten out of the hospital wing earlier that day, the day after the end-of-year feast. Marks were up. Roderick was top of their class, with Harry and Delf tied as close seconds. Roderick and he were packing up their things to go down to the train that afternoon. Lawrence, Will, and Andrew were at lunch, so they were able to speak freely.

"Of course, if we had let _Tom_ do what we did, Gryffindor would have won the Cup, no matter how far behind they were," he grumbled. Few things truly pissed him off, but favoritism was one of them.

Roderick shrugged. "Yeah. But what can we do? Demand points? Launch a campaign? It's a little late. Maybe if you had been there, Dumbledore might have been more pressured to do something, but as it is…"

"Yeah, I know. In a way, I'm actually glad I wasn't there. You know how gossip gets around this school. I wouldn't have had a second's peace between Dumbledore's speech and dessert. I don't like that kind of attention." He fell quiet. He still hadn't told Delf and Roderick everything Voldemort had said to him. He had wanted to: that was part of what made the last three days in the Hospital Wing so torturous. His friends had been declared 'too stimulating' and were banned from the ward. But how was he supposed to say it? 'Voldemort says I'm actually the Boy Who Lived, how do you like that?'

"I know I said this last year, but now I really mean it: I can't believe we survived this year," Roderick joked, trying to lighten Harry's dour mood. Harry smiled gratefully at his friend.

Only an hour later, they were down on the Hogsmeade Station platform, surrounded by the cacophony of shrieking whistles, hooting owls, and noisy students. Harry, Delf and Roderick pushed and prodded their way to the train, where they found an empty compartment.

"Ugh," said Delf, straightening her robes and hair as she sat down. "It's just the train, not a celebrity. There's no reason for everyone to mob it. Honestly."

"There, there, dear, not everyone can have your incredible levels of common sense," Roderick said sarcastically.

"Very funny, Roderick," she sniffed. Harry smiled at their banter, but it felt strained. Delf saw this. "Alright, Harry. What have you not been telling us?"

"You should know better by now than to try and hide things from her, mate," Roderick told him.

"Yeah, I know. And she's right. I do have a lot to tell you both." Harry then gave them a paraphrased version of everything that had happened to him after going through the black flames, and what Voldemort had said to him, including that he was supposedly the one who was meant to be famous all the time, not Tom.

They were both silent when he finished.

"Do you… believe him?" Delf finally asked.

"I don't know!" Harry cried, all the pent-up frustration and anxiety he'd felt over the last week pouring out. "I can't think of a good reason for him to have lied to me, but I don't want to believe it's true. I never wanted what Tom has, and Tom is perfectly happy to keep it. And what does it mean even if I am The Boy Who Lived? Voldemort tried to kill me and couldn't because of Grandma Potter's sacrifice. Does it matter who it really was as long as we know it's possible?"

"Well, yes, actually, that part is rather important," Roderick told him gently. "But as for the rest of it… yeah, there's no good reason for him to have lied to you. If he wanted to throw you off, he could have said there was no one alive who could best him except Tom or something. No, you're right: that is really weird."

"What if it's true?" Delf wondered aloud. Harry shuddered.

"There'll be a revolt or something. Some people literally worship Tom. People who lost everything in the war, and love him for ending it. I don't want to start anything with people like that. Besides, who would believe it?"

"We would," Roderick told him solemnly.

Harry nodded despondently. "Thanks." The trio sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. "Delf," Harry said suddenly. "Why did you bother to become friends with me? That time at the Crescent Gala when we were six, remember?"

"Of course I do." She nodded. "I really like that memory. It tells a perfect story. They'd been doing those stupid things for what, three years?"

"Ah yes, the 'Tom Defeated the Dark Lord so He Gets a Party' parties," Roderick said nostalgically. "Where the adults go to be obnoxious socialites and the kids go to sneak alcohol."

"Did you ever actually do that?" Delf inquired skeptically.

"Yes, actually. Mum thought it would be funny to give me a sip of champagne, and I liked it so I went and got my own glass. I think I was five at the time. I fell asleep under the table and they couldn't find me for hours."

"I remember," Harry laughed. "Your mum tried 'accio Roderick'. It didn't work."

"Oh, I know: I didn't go that year because Mum was nearly due with Dwight," Delf explained. "I'm sorry I missed that. It sounds so funny!"

"But back up: I want to hear this story of yours," Roderick demanded. "You two were friends with each other before we were all a group."

Delf shrugged. "Well, this would have been when we were six. It was at the very beginning of the party, where the Minister got up on stage and gave his welcome speech and explained what the whole thing was about. So basically, Tom. But you know how he always asks Harry's mum and dad and Tom to come up on stage at the end? He'd just done that, but all of a sudden I saw this kid walking away from the stage along the wall until he got the back of the ballroom and hid himself behind the curtains they sometimes hang back there, you know?" Roderick nodded affirmation. Harry knew the story from the other perspective, but hearing it from her point of view for the first time made his throat go sort of tight and scratchy. "And, well... You know me and making snap decisions. I didn't know who Harry was, and I didn't really care, honestly. 'That's not right', I thought. 'This is a party. Everyone should be happy at a party'. So I followed him over there and asked if he wanted to be my friend."

"And I said 'Yes'," Harry finished, smiling at her.

"Ooh la la, so romantic!" Roderick said, grinning. Delf kicked him. "Ow. But that's not fair: now I feel bad. I didn't even understand my motives at the time. My stupid dad…"

Harry grinned since he knew the story. "A pretty good misunderstanding to make, I'd say."

"Agreed," said the other boy fervently.

Just then the candy trolley rolled up, and they were distracted from such heavy topics as Voldemort and friendship. The rest of the train ride passed uneventfully. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan popped in for a bit before going off to harass Ron. Tracey and her friend from Slytherin, Zadie, came and sat with them for the last half hour of the journey. Cedric checked in on them and they joked about Quidditch for a bit.

But soon enough, they were pulling into King's Cross Station. Harry hastily pulled off his robes, having forgotten to change on the trip itself. He lost track of Delf and Roderick in the crowds getting off the train, and was swept some ways down the Platform until he could get out of the current of bodies and reorient himself. He'd just spotted Roderick—

"Harry! Sweetheart, over here!"

Balls.

Hedwig suddenly seemed to weigh thirty kilos as he waded through the crowds towards his parents and Tom, who had made it to them first.

"Hello," he mumbled.

"Welcome home, sweetheart. How was the train ride?" Lily asked.

"Fine."

"Good; I'm glad. Have you said goodbye to your friends? We should try to hurry home."

"Why? What's at home?" Tom asked eagerly. He was probably anticipating a present for getting through his first year of Hogwarts, Harry thought bitterly.

"Nothing, darling. But we have a lot to work out this summer. As a family."

Harry's heart fell. Not this. Not again. Not more false words and broken promises. No more "we'll make it up to you". It was so much worse when they were sincere…

Mini-Chapter: Dumbledore

The students were gone. The castle was quiet. Dumbledore paced his office, worrying and thinking and analyzing and theorizing. The Pensive glowed quietly from his desk, all the memories and thoughts collected together where he could try to draw patterns and logic out of them. It wasn't going well. There were so few clues, and too many questions. Too many possibilities.

He stirred the silky mist restively, letting the threads of memory interweave as they would.

The first whiff of trouble had arrived in the form of a letter three years previously. Mr. Ollivander politely wished Professor Dumbledore well, and thought he should know something interesting about an entering student's wand… Twin cores of phoenix tail feathers… Dumbledore had not known what to make of this seeming error on the wand's part. He had agreed with the merchant in every particular of the case: the holly wand should have gone to Tom, if logic had anything to do with it. And the boy's reaction when he heard the facts himself: he had tried to reject the wand instead of considering the sort of power it might give him over his brother in the future. Dumbledore recognized this as a flaw in his own character, however, and dismissed his concerns. It would be something to watch for, not something to worry about.

Harry, when he arrived at Hogwarts, seemed to make no effort before attaining complete dominance in all areas. His teachers reported him to be extremely bright and perfectly respectful. Dumbledore had been surprised and titillated to hear that the boy had immediately taken steps to make nice with Severus. He was popular with others in his year, and even upperclassmen found him cheerful and properly diffident to their superior status. And of course, being the youngest Seeker in a century and winning every single game for his house hadn't hurt at all.

It had been a bit of a surprise when Harry went to Ravenclaw. Dumbledore rarely judged the offspring of previous students by their parents' track records, but he had made an exception and assumed the Potters were a thoroughly Gryffindor-oriented family. And being friends with the elder Malfoy had put a whole new tilt on the boy as well. He appeared to be a bit of a maverick. But Dumbledore hadn't diagnosed him as anything but surprisingly successful in academics, sports, and the social sphere. Harry Potter was just a boy who knew how to work the system.

Then Tom got to Hogwarts, and all of a sudden, Harry became important. Since he had never had anything that could truthfully be called a conversation with the boy, the headmaster had been surprised to learn first-hand that Harry was unusually logical and intelligent for a boy of his age. Dumbledore had had to make an effort to conceal his incredulity when the third-year had barged into his office with Severus in tow to tell him what he had overheard Quirrell saying.

Nor had he expected him to find the Mirror of Erised. He had been puzzled by how guarded, distrusting and cagey the boy was. He had given very little about himself away, and subtly tried to get information out of Dumbledore himself instead!

And then he had completely turned things upside-down when he had gone down the trap door with his two friends. Of everything that had happened that year, Dumbledore was most confused by the events that had transpired between the elder Potter boy and Voldemort. The plot points were all right… but the protagonist was all wrong.

It was possible, he mused, for both of the Potter boys to have been included in their grandmother's protective sacrifice. 'Don't kill _them'_ rather than the 'don't kill _him'_ they'd all been assuming would be enough. That would explain why Quirrell couldn't touch him.

For a day or so after the events themselves, Dumbledore had been concerned as to whether or not he should watch for Harry developing signs of becoming the next great Dark wizard, but those fears had been assuaged once he had properly sorted out the boy's motivations. He had wanted to protect his brother, not grab the limelight.

Dumbledore had the habit of paying only cursory attention to things he deemed unimportant, and since he knew himself to be extremely intelligent, he rarely had to second guess himself. He had written Harry off in favour of his brother, who clearly had a very important role to play in future events. Tom Potter was the Boy Who Lived. But who and what was Harry Potter?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> THANK YOU FOR ALL OF THE SUPPORT SO FAR! This story has gained so much traction in the last month, and fire1 and I are over the moon about it. Thank you thank you thank you. ^^
> 
> I know most of this chapter is pretty similar to the books, but I thought it was important to show Harry, Delf, and Roderick working together as a team, and then especially for Harry to confront Voldemort. He knows he's the Boy Who Lived now! What will he do with this information? What will change now that he's on Dumbledore's radar? Dun-dun-duunnnn...
> 
> Chapter 7, "Such A Rebel", sunday. I really like the next chapter, and it's the longest one yet, so I think it'll be worth the wait. In the meantime, who do you think is the better OC so far, Tom or Roderick? Not the one you like more necessarily, but the one who suits his situation better?
> 
> Half credit for this story goes to my friend fire1: we developed and outlined this idea together and there's no way it would exist without her. Go check her page out!
> 
> All characters are owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros, etc.
> 
> E.I. signing out


	7. Such A Rebel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is very different then canon. I hope you all like it.  
> Fire1~

_Such A Rebel_

_Dear Harry,_ he read. _It was Astoria's birthday the other day, yes. It was nice of you to remember. We had a very sweet little party for her with cake and all the appropriate songs and presents and such things._

It was a week after the end of term. Harry had written his friends both letters three days before, and was now enjoying their replies, which he had swiped from the kitchen table after his run.

_No! (I'm writing this as I read your letter, so I'm responding as I go.) Harry, I swear I'll duel Merlin himself if your parents think they can get away with winning you over with more attention just because Dumbledore's been dripping suspicions in their ears._

He should have known she'd be upset about that. In some ways, Delf was holding more of a grudge against his parents than he himself was.

_We don't even know if Qui that man was telling the truth! How dare they horn in on your life after ignoring you for so long? That is so wrong! I want to hex them sometimes, I really do. I'll do it for you, if you like. You know you can come visit us any time you like and spend the day here. We're not going anywhere this year because my mum's sister and my cousins are coming. So actually, please come every day and help me hide from them._

He laughed to himself at that. Delf had an older girl cousin, Marie, going into her seventh year (that's where Delf's hand-me-down robes came from) and an older boy cousin, David, who had graduated at the end of their first year. They weren't famed for being particularly nice to her or her siblings.

_Oh, that's so exciting! We should definitely show those notes to Master Jerome. I'm still not completely convinced about the bird Animagi-form thing, but I do see some of the merits now…_

Harry knew she was only saying that to save face. He and Roderick had completely worn her down on that front.

_Flight without brooms, for instance. But still, you do know they groom themselves with their BEAKS? NASTY!_  
See you soon, hopefully! Write me when you decide where you're going with Sirius, and I'll tell you what gift I want. (joking!)  
Love, Delf

He smiled and put her letter aside. Delf always made him feel better. It was one of his favorite things about her. Roderick's letter began on a somewhat less sympathetic note:

_Dear Harry,  
I understand mate, but you literally have no right to complain about your family._

'Thanks,' he thought unkindly.

_They're paying attention to you? Great! They're spending more time with you? Enjoy it! I'm really serious. You want to hear what my dad did as soon as I got home? He said "Did you find out anything about Thomas Potter?"_

Wow. Lucius Malfoy had to have the thickest head in the British Isles if he hadn't realized that the elder Potter and Malfoy boys had managed to become best friends and that Roderick wasn't spying on Harry's family.

_I told him no, so he asked Draco, who spouted all the things you'd expect him to (Tom's an M-word-loving prat who couldn't charm his way out of a tissue-paper cauldron, etc etc). It's good we decided to get our trunks with the secret compartments, because I think Dad literally went through my things looking for letters from you to see if you said anything he could use.  
On the other hand, your story about your mum walking in on you made me laugh aloud._

That had been quite funny, Harry had to agree. He sometimes sat on the floor at the far side of his bed from the door when he meditated in the morning, so when his mother had come barging in the other morning, she thought he had been doing something…else.

_In some ways, it's rather funny the way they don't know anything about you. And we should definitely show Master Jerome your dad's old notes! I think we've pretty much got Delf convinced about doing birds, too. I like your idea of doing crows or ravens or something common so that we can sneak around, but I still think owls would be best for that. There are owls everywhere around school! Tell me if you find anything else.  
—Roderick_

Harry quietly got up and went to his desk. The bottom right-hand drawer was where he kept all his letters from his friends, all the way back from when they were seven and had had to use their parent's owls to send them. Since they had sent each other a lot of mail over the years, the drawer was getting pretty full. And he should probably establish some sort of filing system too, before things got too much more out of hand.

A knock at his door: "Harry?"

"Yes?" He slammed the drawer shut and stood up as his mother came in.

"Oh, good, you're awake. We've got breakfast started downstairs. Come join us when you're ready." Harry tried not to roll his eyes as he turned back to his bed and began picking up the books he'd been reading the previous night. "I have to say, sweetheart, I'm always very impressed when I come in here: your room is so neat compared—" She suddenly fell quiet. Harry looked up apprehensively to see that his mother's gaze had locked on the wall to the right of the door, where he hung his three-part silver frames each year. "Harry, are—these your marks?"

"Er… yeah."

She stepped closer to them. "Sweetheart, these are incredible! O's in Transfiguration, Defense, Potions, AND Charms for first and second year! And are these your friends? Um…"

"Daphne Greengrass and Roderick Malfoy," he reminded her.

_"Mal—?_ Right, of course." She turned to him, looking both curious and cautious. "Where are this year's?"

Harry reluctantly turned to his desk and extracted the bit of parchment with its neat grid of classes and their corresponding letters from under his Potions book and several old essays he hadn't put away yet. He handed his mother his marks and looked down at the photo that had been attached. They had taken it after the first week of classes, as they always did. First year's featured them in front of the castle, looking suitably excited about Hogwarts and their magical educations ahead. Harry still had his glasses then because he hadn't met Tracey and her mum. Second year's had them in front of the Forest. They had had to look way up at the camera because Hagrid took the picture, and Delf had her arms around Fang. This year's photo, the one he held in his hands, was in front of the Lake. The sun shone down with early autumn warmth, and Delf giggled helplessly as Roderick and Harry mercilessly tickled her from either side. He smiled at the memory.

"Sweetheart, why did you never show us these?" His mum's question startled him out of his mental ramblings.

"It… never came up," he said lamely. He couldn't tell the truth, which was that he doubted they would have been interested, even if he had gotten all O's.

"Harry…" he could tell that she didn't know what to say, even without looking at her. "It shouldn't... have to 'come up'... You can just tell us things…"

He hastily changed the subject: "Can we go to breakfast now?"

"Oh, sure… Of course, sweetheart."

He followed her out of his room, down the passage past the master bedroom and the guest rooms, and down the stairs to the entry hall. They didn't talk to each other. Harry couldn't speak for his mum, but for his part, her noticing his grades and the following conversation had brought to light problems he felt it was easier to not think about.

"Good morning, Lord Lazybones," said a dressing-gown garbed James, peering over _The Daily Prophet_ as his wife and elder son came in from the dining room. Tom didn't acknowledge him. He looked like he was sulking over something.

"Harry was actually up and about today, dear."

"Oh! Jolly good then."

Harry didn't tell them that he'd actually been 'up and about' for two and a half hours. It would be too much trouble. Instead, he went over and silently offered to help Tipsy, who was bustling about at the stove. She beamed at him happily under her crooked tiara and handed him a wooden spoon to stir the thick, steaming pot of porridge while she dealt with the scrambled eggs.

"James," Lily said behind him at the table. "did you know that Harry has been in the top five students of his year for all three years? And in the top three of Ravenclaw?"

"Yes," Tom said dourly. "I can't get away from it. 'If you only studied more, you could have top marks like your brother. You need to _apply_ yourself, Thomas'." He made his voice high and nasal to show his derision. Harry didn't know which teacher he was imitating, but he felt a sudden burst of gratitude for whichever one it was.

"Wait: Ravenclaw?" James repeated, chuckling as if Lily had misspoken.

"Yes, Ravenclaw," Harry said softly. His anger felt like a thick knot in the back of his throat, and it was hard to get words out. "You knew that, didn't you?" he challenged.

"Of course we did!" Lily answered, a little too quickly. "And James, it says on his letter that he's never had a detention! Isn't that amazing?" She was trying to steer the conversation back in a more positive direction.

"It's ridiculous," Tom muttered. Harry didn't know what kind of bee he had in his bonnet, but it was starting to get on his nerves.

"What?" was James' eloquent reaction. "But you're a Potter! Don't you prank?"

Tom snorted. "Of course he does. Remember my hair when I came home for Christmas? The Slytherin colours? His fault."

"No, that's just what happens to nasty tale-bearers," Harry snapped. "And yes, I prank. But I also know how to not get caught, even without the Cloak." He normally wouldn't have said anything about that. Tom had it, and there was nothing he could do about it. But right now he wanted to punish his parents for their ignorance, for their lack of curiosity about him. James knew the Cloak was meant to go to the oldest son, and giving it to Tom had been a betrayal both of that tradition and of Harry. And James knew that too, even if he had realized it too late. The pained expression he wore now was enough to show that.

"Harry," Lily began sternly, but just then a hearty greeting interrupted.

"Hello, everyone! Good morning and happy summer!" Sirius called cheerfully from the door to the dining room, simultaneously brushing a great quantity of soot off of his coat. Tipsy hurried forward with a dustpan and brush. "Ah, thank you, Tipsy. Hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

"Only breakfast," Lily replied. "Have you eaten? Come sit down. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Thanks, but I've just come from breakfast myself. As for why I'm here, my calculations tell me it's about that time of year when I kidnap your older son for a month or so and have adventures."

Harry smiled, his temper slightly appeased by his godfather's easy good humor.

"I was wondering when you were going to drop by," he said mildly, lifting the pot of porridge off the stove and setting it aside on the counter. "Delf already wants to know where we're going so that she can tell me what to get her."

"And I would give her anything she specifies. That girl is going to be stunning one day soon, and you don't want to miss out."

"That is quite beside the point," Harry replied. "Delf is my friend."

"And _that_ is exactly the point."

Slightly confused by this retort, Harry turned towards the table to begin busing bowls of oatmeal over, only to be met by the blank stares of his mum, his dad, and his brother. "What?" he asked.

Instead of answering him, Lily turned to Sirius and said, "That's right, I was meaning to owl you about this and it totally slipped my mind. Harry, Tom, would you leave us to talk alone for a moment?"

Harry frowned. There was something he didn't like in his mother's tone. Tom, who sensed nothing suspicious whatsoever, shrugged and slouched out of the room, followed by the reluctant Harry, who kept shooting confused glances at Sirius. The door shut with a sharp snap when he was barely out of the room. He pressed his ear against the wood, but the adults were a little smarter than he gave them credit for, and had put some kind of an anti-eavesdropping charm into effect. All he heard was a quiet buzzing, like crickets in high summer. Defeated, Harry stalked over to the sofa and threw himself down next to his brother with a frustrated sigh.

A moment passed in silence. Harry glanced at Tom. Tom looked furious. Harry looked away. "What's got your wand in a knot?" he asked, doing his best to sound interested.

"My friends aren't writing me," Tom said sullenly.

"What a disaster. At least Mum and Dad know what House you're in." No, that wasn't fair. They were both having bad days, and Harry shouldn't take his temper out on his brother. "Have you tried writing to them first?"

"Yes! Twice!"

"Both of them? Ron and Hermione?"

"Yes. But how do you know their names?"

"Ron is the twins' brother, and I met Hermione at the Muggle Meet-and-Greet."

"The what-and-what?"

"Really?"

"Well, she's mentioned it before, but if I'd asked her, she'd have told me way more than I wanted to know."

"She seemed that way when I met her," Harry concurred. "I thought she'd definitely come to Ravenclaw."

"Well, whatever. What's this Muggle thing?"

"So you know how all the Muggle-born families meet Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick when they go to Diagon Alley for the first time?" Tom shook his head, pushing his glasses up his nose as they slipped. "Well, they do. And my friend Tracey and I happened to be there that day two years ago, so we helped show them around. We did it again this last summer, and we informally called it the 'Muggle Meet-and-Greet'. We're doing it again this year too, and I think Hermione mentioned she might like to come along."

Tom grunted. Harry didn't try to resurrect the conversation after that.

Whatever the adults were talking about certainly took a while. Nearly half an hour dragged by before the kitchen door finally opened, revealing a triumphant-looking Lily. James and Sirius' voices drifted out behind her as she said "Alright boys, you can come in. We've got a few things to explain."

Harry's expectations for the upcoming conversation plunged. Nothing good ever had to be 'explained'.

Within a few seconds, all five of them were seated around the kitchen table: James, Lily, Sirius, Harry, and Tom (with Tipsy doing dishes at the sink). The two boys were equally confused, and Harry was also nervous. Sirius looked disgruntled, and James looked like a lot that he didn't quite understand had just happened.

"So, Harry," Lily began. Harry was startled to be specifically addressed when they were just starting out. He glanced confusedly at Sirius, who wasn't looking at him, instead twisting a large silver ring around his thumb. Harry knew that meant he was unhappy about something. "We've all come to a decision. For the past few years, you've spent most of each July going on holiday with Sirius so that Tom could focus on his lessons with Dumbledore."

Oh dear.

"However, your conduct recently has begun to concern us, especially as regards to your behavior towards us as a family."

Oh no.

"We know that as you enter your teenage years, you will experience rebellious feelings. That is normal, and we completely understand. Compounding this must be your jealousy of Tom. Just two weeks ago, you risked your life to prove your superiority over him. Not to mention, you've grown your hair long, you aren't wearing your glasses, you got a _tattoo_ …" Here she glanced frostily at Sirius. "And so, in order for you to begin to foster a healthier relationship with us,"

They _couldn't_ …

"Tom, your father and I are going with you and Sirius on holiday." Lily looked inexplicably pleased with herself. Harry was appalled.

"But, I mean—you _can't_ ," he protested. "That's just—it's not—you _can't_!" Apparently, a succinct and convincing explanation for the anger and betrayal he felt was not forthcoming. Furious at his inability to articulate himself, he fell silent.

As if Harry hadn't spoken at all, Lily smoothly carried on: "Sirius mentioned just now that you two had been considering going to Ireland. That actually works perfectly, because we've been invited to – whose birthday, James?"

"Er, Amelia Bones'," James replied hastily, clearly not having expected to have to contribute anything to the conversation. He sank back into his tea.

"That's right. She's turning forty, and has arranged a perfectly lovely get-together at her family's holiday home outside of Bantry. Had you two decided where you were going to stay?"

Sirius reluctantly pulled a wodge of pamphlets out of an inner pocket and tossed them on the table. "That's what we were going to sort out today." Harry was rather too shell-shocked to hear that his godfather sounded just as dejected as he felt.

"Harry, since this was going to be your special holiday, where do you want to stay?" Lily asked, spreading the pamphlets out in front of him. The people in the photos seemed to be having a contest of who could look happiest about being at whatever lodge or hotel they were advertising. Harry sifted through them without enthusiasm. The others watched him.

"This one seems good," he finally grunted, pulling a slim advert out of the swath. "It says it's near a group of burial mounds and a museum on Druidism."

"BO-ORING!" Tom shouted.

Lily pursed her lips. "Harry, this is for holiday, not a school trip. Isn't there some place a little more interesting?"

Harry bit his tongue to keep from telling her that he actually was interested in those things. It wouldn't do any good.

"This one has a private Quidditch pitch!" Tom said, holding up one of the flashier pamphlets.

Lily took it from him. "Oh, and weekly complementary spa days. How lovely!"

"Where is it?" James inquired.

"Westmeath County, right on a lake called… 'Lough Ree'… Does anyone know if I've pronounced that correctly?" A general shrugging motion went around the table. "Anyway, it's exclusively for magical tourists and travelers, and looks like a perfectly beautiful spot. Sirius, what do you think?"

Sirius took the unfolded page unenthusiastically. "It's very nice," he said noncommittally. "I see it's got an exercise room with an indoor track." He glanced at Harry meaningfully.

"Sirius, don't tell me you've been buffing up: you'll make me look bad," James laughed.

"Well, it sounds like we're all happy with this one," Lily said cheerily. "I'll write for reservations this morning. Look, how nice of them to include Apparation coordinates!" Harry ground his teeth and refused to look at Sirius. How could he have let her do this? Barge in on _their_ holiday plans?

The gathering broke up soon after that: Lily went to her writing desk in the sitting room to compose her letter; James went upstairs to get dressed; Tom slouched off somewhere to mope. Harry stamped upstairs, ignoring Sirius' calls for him to come back and listen.

Slamming his bedroom door proved little consolation. Hedwig squawked at him sleepily. He stormed to the opposite corner of his room, the one where there were windows on both walls, and glared out furiously. The grounds were quiet, and Harry wished wrathfully for a vast tempest to whip out of the peaceful morning and whisk his family away somewhere he wouldn't have to look at them anymore.

A knock. It was Sirius, of course. It wouldn't be anyone else. With a huff, he paced back to the door and opened it reluctantly. His godfather stood in the hall, looking contrite.

Harry gestured listlessly for his uncle to come in. He wasn't in a state to begin a conversation. If Sirius had something to say, he would say it.

"Listen, Harry. I've very sorry about all of this." He paused, waiting for Harry to say something, which he didn't. "I was looking forward to our holiday just as much as you. Here's the thing: your mum thinks you're being rebellious. She mentioned the tattoo, and what happened at the end of term, not that I'm pretending to know what that's about. She says Tom wrote that you've been distancing yourself from the family. And she thinks that forcing you to spend time with them will somehow make you… not. I think she's got several things going windershins, but there was nothing I could do."

Harry sighed and passed a hand over his eyes. He heard the truth in his uncle's voice. He knew what his mum got like when she set her mind to something. "I know, I know. I don't blame you, really. I'm just—it's—do they really not get it? I got a tattoo because Delf is a good artist and it looks wicked. I wear long hair because that's the only way I can control it. And glasses are just difficult with Quidditch, you know?"

"I do. And trust me, I understand. So shall we just make the most of this?"

Harry smiled grudgingly. "Sure."

"And your tattoo _is_ wicked."

-o-

Harry and Sirius were the last to Apparate to the hotel. The courtyard was already abuzz with bellboys hovering their luggage about and attendants asking for their coats and refreshment orders and the grey-haired hostess making effusive welcomes to his mum and dad and Tom. Harry took a deep breath, smelling warm fresh air, a kitchen close by, and a lot of smarmy flattery. It was between eleven and noon, and they were running forty-five minutes past schedule.

"….very excited to be hosting your family this month, Mr. Potter," gushed the flustered hostess. " _Such_ and honor to meet you both, and your wonderful son, of course. The _whole_ staff has just been twittering with anticipation ever since you wrote last week, Mrs. Potter."

Speaking of the whole staff, they all seemed to be lined up against the far wall of the open-air courtyard, whispering and twitching and shushing themselves excitedly. Harry noticed with a flicker of interest that a girl (fifteen years old? Sixteen?) stood among them, though she had on a short denim skirt and sandals and a tight shirt with thin straps rather than the hotel staff's navy-blue and white uniform. She was watching the mêlée with lively interest, but not the fanatical glee of some of the others.

He was distracted when he heard out of the corner of his ear Lily saying to the worshipful hostess that Tom would be happy to meet the employees now, but then they really had to go up to the rooms and settle in for a bit. This ignited a flurry of excited buzzing, as everyone tried to find a quill or a scrap of parchment and a few people shot off to get cameras. Harry groaned and leaned up against a trunk. No one would be going anywhere for a while. He didn't know which rooms were theirs, or he might have gone to find them. And besides, he didn't have a key. Sirius had drifted off and was flirting with a maid, who was giggling in an ego-boosting kind of way.

A rough queue had formed up in front of their party, with everyone jostling and pushing for a closer position to Tom, who was in full-on crowd-pleasing mode. Harry zoned out after a bit, mentally drafting his next letters to Roderick and Delf.

_I should have run away with the circus when I had the chance in second year…. If I decide to stop hiding under the bed I may get you the earrings with live clover you requested…. How many owls do you think it would take to send Tom to Algeria?_

"Is that your brother?" The accent started him out of his reverie. The girl he had noticed earlier was at the front of the line talking to Tom. The hard Rs and accentuated vowels marked her as American, though he wasn't expert enough to identify what part of the large country she was from. Tom looked around in confusion till spying Harry, who was studiously paying no mind while still looking at them out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes." Tom sounded a little testy. Harry repressed a smirk.

"He's hella cute."

"He's— _excuse_ me?"

"Oh, you don't say there here, huh? Um, he's handsome? Attractive? Good-looking?" Harry felt his ears growing warm. "Is he single?"

"Listen, would you like an autograph or something?" Tom asked heatedly, put badly off his game.

"Oh, no thanks. You're staying at the hotel, right? If I change my mind I can find you. Nice meeting you!"

"Well—see here!" Tom exclaimed, but the girl was no longer listening, instead making a bee line right at Harry. Without moving, Harry tried to make himself look both suave and unimpressed with the scene around him (the second part wasn't hard).

"Hi there," she said, coming to a halt right next to him.

"Oh, hello," he responded as if he hadn't noticed her.

"What's your name?" He decided to like this girl: she hadn't identified him in terms of Tom.

"I'm Harry Potter. How do you do?"

She giggled. "I'm great, thanks. My name's Lindsey, Lindsey O'Harris." Lindsey O'Harris was a little taller than him, with medium-length straight blonde hair with a dark brown streak down the left side of her fringe. She had pretty blue eyes, chipped pink fingernail polish, and really nice legs.

"Nice to meet you," Harry said sincerely. "Are you staying at the hotel too?"

"Sorta." She leaned next to him against the trunk. "My dad's parents own it, so I come back here every few summers and hang out till the Institute starts."

"Oh, you go to the Salem Witches' Institute?"

"No way, you know it? Awesome! My cousin says no one he knows has ever heard of it, but it's supposed to be the best witches-only school in the Western Hemisphere."

"That's what they said when I visited. My godfather and I said he was my dad and that we were thinking of sending my sister abroad for school."

Lindsey laughed the way the maid had laughed for Sirius. Harry grinned in return. "And did you meet the headmistress? Mrs. Vinn?"

"The one with the grey hair and eleven fingers? Yes, and I've decided that even if I had a sister to send abroad, I wouldn't send her there." A breath of a pause. "Not that it's not an excellent school! It's just that—well I mean—that is I'm very sorry…"

"Don't! Don't apologize! We all hate Mrs. Vinn, seriously. I actually asked you that as a test: I know I can trust you now." She winked.

"Oh." He wasn't quite sure what to say to that.

"How old are you, anyway?" she asked.

"Fifteen at the end of the month," he lied.

She nodded approvingly. "I just turned sixteen in June. Have you ever had a girlfriend?"

"Yes," he answered, thinking of Cho. "But we didn't last long."

"Aww, poor Harry." She pouted exaggeratedly.

He started. "Is it the custom in America to be so familiar?"

"Was I being too familiar? I guess I am friendlier than some people, so if that bugs you…"

"No, not too friendly, it's just… you called me Harry."

"Yes." She looked puzzled. "That's your name, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, but usually over here we don't use first names till we've been friends for a bit. Before that, it's 'miss O'Harris' or 'mister Potter', for example."

"Weird. The way we do it is that we call a person by their names—their first names—and their parents are 'mister and missus' whatever-the-family-name-is. Do you mind if I call you Harry?"

"No, not at all." He sort of liked it, in fact.

Lily's voice interrupted: "Harry, we're going up to the rooms. Come along."

"Sure, just a mo," he called back without looking at her. _'You want a rebellious teen, Mum? I can do that for you.'_ "So, will I see you around the hotel then?"

"Definitely." Lindsey grinned. "See you 'round, _Harry_."

"Nice meeting you, _Lindsey_ ," he replied, smiling just as widely. This vacation might not be such a waste after all.

Their third-storey suite was arranged as a large common living space with two bedrooms through doors on the right and a bedroom and the loo to the left. Straight ahead was a large set of glass French doors leading out to the porch, which overviewed the Quidditch pitch and Lough Ree beyond. It was the nicest one in the hotel.

"James, the master bedroom is there on the left, if you'd like to start arranging our things. Sirius, you can have whichever room you like, and the boys can have the other one."

"Wait, I want to share with Sirius," Harry protested.

"No, Harry. You're going to bond with Tom, no ifs, ands, or buts."

"Sorry to agree with her, but I'm going to have girls in," Sirius apologized sheepishly.

"Bollix," Harry muttered, just as Lily exclaimed "Ex _cuse_ me?"

Harry sighed and began sorting the pile of luggage out as Lily and Sirius faced off. Of course his bag had to be at the bottom…

"…and if I had any uncertainty about where Harry's bad attitude is coming from, I know beyond a doubt now!" Lily shrilled. "I saw him talking to that… that _girl_ downstairs! You're a terrible influence on him, Sirius!"

"Harry knows better than to take my example," Sirius protested. "He's a normal, intelligent thirteen year old boy who knows how to flirt. It's not the end of the world!"

Shutting the door to his and Tom's room effectively cut the noise out. There must be a Silencing Charm on the door, he thought gratefully as he surveyed his temporary home. They had the bad luck of getting the only room with no windows, so a series of lamps arranged around the room on small tables provided the only illumination. There were the standard two beds, neatly made up with duvets that looked like they had been curtains in a past life. An oblong table sat at the far left end of the room, beyond the beds, with a stationary pad, a set of quills and pot of ink. To his immediate right were two wardrobes, one of which was spewing Tom's clothing everywhere. He had probably gotten tired of doing things on his own and given up.

Tom himself was located on the bed closer to the door and the wardrobes, sprawled facedown across the blankets like he'd been dropped there by a giant.

"Are you dead?" Harry asked hopefully. A grunt was his answer. "Ok then, are you going to keep lying there like a guttersnipe, or are you going to put some of those clothes away?"

"I'm not talking to you," was the muffled response.

"Oh, now I'm just hurt," he snapped sarcastically.

No, this was going to be a terrible holiday.

-o-

The hotel was quiet and peaceful at six in the morning. There were cooking sounds emanating from the distant kitchen, and chirping birds, but otherwise everything was still. He catfooted it along the hallway, down the stairs, and through the empty entrance hall till he at last made it outside.

The sun was peeking above the horizon behind the hotel as he stepped out, making the water of the lough into a shiny silver mirror. The grounds of the hotel spread away on either side, green rolling hills to the left and right, the hotel behind and the lake before him. He set off at a quick jog along the edge of the water, planning to make a large loop around the hotel building. He relaxed into the movements of his body as the sun rose and woke the world around him.

He was making his second loop across the Quidditch pitch along the water, when a robust American greeting pulled him up short: "Harry, hey!" He turned to the water to see Lindsey striding up the shore towards him, perfectly cheerful and soaking wet in a dark green one-piece swim suit.

"What's up?" she asked, toweling her hair vigorously. Harry peered confusedly up at the sky, not quite sure what she meant. She laughed, delightedly at his puzzlement. "That's just slang for what's going on, or how're you doing," she clarified.

"Oh. That's odd. Nothing much is…'up' right now. Just running."

"Tight, tight. I may have to marry a British man if that's a thing you guys do a lot."

Not at all sure what she meant by 'tight', he responded to the second part. "It's not, to my knowledge. I started doing it when I was nine, but even my friends don't join me."

"Bummer. No one ever comes with me when I swim in the morning either."

"Would you like some company now?" he smiled.

"Why Harry! If I didn't know better, I'd say you were flirting with me," she said coyly, batting her eyelashes at him.

Encouraged, he replied, "Who's to say I'm not?"

She laughed delightedly. "I bet you're a total player! Come on, take your shirt off. The water's cold, but you'll get used to it pretty quick."

He obligingly pulled his sweaty tee-shirt off over his head. She gasped. _"Oh my gawd!_ I totally would never ever have even guessed in a million years that you'd have a tattoo! Oh my god, that's so sick! I've never got to really look at one before. My stupid dad is _so_ old-school about that stuff. He thinks anyone with a tattoo must be like a total Dark wizard or whatever. Can I touch it?"

"Yeah, sure." She reached out and giggled gleefully as the Horntail whirled and snapped under her fingers. "I can't believe your parents let you get this! From what little I saw, they seem pretty… I dunno, uptight. Especially your mom."

"Trust me, my parents didn't let me get this. Mum was furious when she found out last year. Did you see the other man with us? Long hair, flirting with maids? That's my godfather, Sirius Black. He let me get it for my birthday. And then my brother found out, and then…. It's a sort of long story."

"Let's swim and talk at the same time," she suggested. "I'm totally dying to hear this." So, encouraged by an eager audience, Harry allowed himself to be enticed down into the (very very very) cold water, and gave a slightly simplified version of getting his Horntail over summer, Tom seeing it on the train, and the Howler that resulted.

"….so now my mum thinks I'm being a 'rebellious teenager', and hauled us all here for holiday so that we could 'bond as a family'," he finished, expression gloomy.

For some reason, she giggled. "And do you want your parents to think you're rebelling?"

"What do you mean?" he asked dubiously.

"Well, I'm bored and you're hot. We could have some serious fun," she replied slyly, treading water so that all but her eyes and the top of her head were submerged.

"So what, we pretend to flirt to piss off my mum?"

"Kind of, but I was thinking more along the lines of I teach you to pick up girls to piss off your mom. Pretending to flirt is a waste of time."

Harry began to grin. "Yeah, okay!" What would Sirius say to _this?_

"I have to go in now though. I promised to eat breakfast with my grandparents, and I told my friends I'd write if I met anyone cool, and you definitely qualify for that," she told him, beginning to backstroke towards shore.

"My friends will be getting an account of you too, don't worry!" he called, swimming after her.

They split up at shore (where he collected his shirt), she to the small door marked 'private' that he assumed to be the owners' quarters, and he back into the hotel-proper to grab a quick breakfast and go up and shower before his family got up.

Being happily distracted with planning what would surely be his last bother-free hour of the day, he at first didn't recognize the quartet of people coming down the stairs. At least, not until one of them noticed _him_ and said "Harry!" rather loudly.

Now he saw: Sirius led the trio of other Potters towards the dining room, sleepy, disgruntled, and rumpled. What were they doing up so early? Why did his mum look so infuriated?

"I knew it!" she cried, rushing the rest of the way down the stairs. "You snuck out, didn't you? I knew there was something suspicious when I saw you laughing with that—that _girl_ yesterday! Where have you been? Why are you sopping wet? You're barely even dressed!"

"Lily! Lily, calm down!" Sirius interjected, hurrying down the stairs after her. Harry was too shocked to say anything. "He was out running, that's all!"

"What are you talking about?" she snapped. "Harry doesn't run. He's barely ever awake before ten."

"I thought that too until we took our first trip together to America. I woke up and he wasn't there, and he wasn't anywhere in the hotel, and I was all set to run off in high dudgeon because I thought he'd been kidnapped or something when he walked in alive and well not two minutes later and said he'd been out running, like he did every morning."

"He actually does that?" Tom piped up from where he and James hadn't moved on the stairs. "I thought it was an urban legend around school. I heard a bunch of girls get up early every morning and watch him from the Astronomy Tower."

"Are you joking me?" Harry demanded, breaking silence. Tom shrugged.

Lily looked like she didn't quite know what to do with herself. Robbed of her righteous maternal fury, she had been given instead a fair bit of a public embarrassment. "Well… Put your shirt on, Harry. We're going to breakfast, and I won't allow you to look like a hooligan." Bereft of fury, it seemed she resorted to prissy bossiness.

Too late, Harry realized that the shirt he'd so casually flung over his shoulder by the lake was in fact strategically covering an incriminatingly inked section of his body. Moving to put the shirt on would involve exposing his Horntail, and giving his mum more fodder for her wrath, when he'd just dodged her latest bludger.

"Come on, Harry," she snapped impatiently.

There was nothing for it. As reluctantly as a condemned man going to the gallows, he pulled the garment off of his shoulder. His Horntail trailed in swirling, traitorous loops from under his armpit to the plainly visible skin over his collarbone. Lily's jaw dropped open.

"Brilliant!" James exclaimed.

"Of all the indecent, barbaric—"

"Oh my god, Harry, imagine finding you here! Fate is totally telling us to be together forever! My grandparents weren't up yet, so I'm totally free to eat breakfast with _you!"_ Lindsey to the rescue. He really could have kissed the girl right then and there. Lily, bound by her own sense of good manners, restrained herself from flying off the handle in front of strangers. Harry grinned at the new arrival. She had pulled on a short dress with flowers on it, but the wetness from her swimming suit had soaked the material, and her curves were still perfectly prominent. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Hey there, stranger," she said coquettishly.

"Hey there yourself," he responded, trying not to burst out laughing at his mother's thunderstruck expression. "May I escort you in to breakfast, my lady?" he asked, affecting gallantry and offering his arm. She giggled flirtatiously and slipped her arm through his.

"Totally." As they walked away from the dumbfounded Lily, the impressed-looking Sirius and James, and the seething Tom, Lindsey murmured into his ear, "Rebellious teens: one. Angry parents: nada." Harry threw his head back and laughed.

-o-

He mostly stayed out of everyone's way over the next few days, except for eating lunch every day with Sirius. Tom and his parents were largely engaged in showing Tom off in the nearby town, but Harry didn't mind so much. He spent his time reading and flying and spending time with Lindsey. He thanked his lucky stars more times than he could count for the girl's company. She was funny and sympathetic and attractive besides. He'd have doubtless gone mad without her.

But finally, his family remembered the fact that they were on 'Harry's holiday', and asked him what he wanted to do.

And so, early the next morning, they all Apparated off to Limerick City, the closest Apparation coordinates they could get to Tara Hill, where there were a pair of henges larger even than the famed Stonehenge.

Luscious green hills rolled to the horizon, and Harry was the first to the crest of Tara Hill, the first to see the twin rings of buried stone, and the singleton pillars left standing with their odd circular pavings surrounding them. When Sirius the rest of his family finally joined him at the top of the hill, winded, Harry was already wandering from stone to stone, trying to sense which aura was strongest. They were all powerful, of course, standing stones were naturally so, but this arrangement was unusual, and probably meant to channel something specific. He tuned his parents out as they exclaimed at the view and meandered towards the larger circle.

Sirius, who knew what he was up to, sighed and pulled a book of crossword puzzles out of an inner pocket as Harry settled himself cross-legged in the center of the larger circle. He closed his eyes, breathed in deeply through his nose. The magic and history emanating in on him was astounding. The magic within his own body buzzed in response and his senses seemed to stretch all around him. He heard his mum tapping a plaque with her wand to make it show the magical history of the henge rather than the Muggle one; Tom sighed gustily and scuffed the dirt; Sirius's pencil scratched randomly at the crossword; James wandered aimlessly. Furthermore, he could sense the magic in the others too: his mum's Healing-honed skills pulsed gently; Tom's unshaped moiling energy; James and Sirius with steady flares burning within.

The breeze blew stoutly from the east, flicking his fringe about his face. He ignored it, sinking further into meditation.

He tended to lose track of time when he meditated so deeply, so he was startled to hear Tom suddenly whining to Lily that they'd been there for three hours and he was _bored_. Harry didn't know if he'd been complaining the whole time he'd been meditating or had by some miracle kept his tongue in his head all morning, and didn't frankly care. He wanted him to shut it.

"Come on, Padfoot, let's play tag," James suggested, and Harry (who still had his eyes closed as if he hadn't noticed anything) was intensely surprised by what happened next: James' magic swelled and covered him, and when it faded again, he was in his stag form. He had just witnessed the magical side of an Animagi transformation! He paid closer attention to Sirius' change a few seconds later, and felt the nature of the change: it wasn't the specifics, it was all of the minute details put together to create a cohesive whole. He suddenly couldn't wait to write to Delf and Roderick.

He kept on pretending to ignore them as they gamboled about and chased Tom.

After a while, however, Tom tired of even those games, and began demanding to go back to town for lunch. They elected Sirius to rouse Harry, not realizing he'd been listening the whole time. Sirius, who was still a dog, wagged his way right over and stuck his nose in Harry's ear. Harry yelped and leapt to his feet.

"You're bored, I get it!" he cried, scrubbing his ear out with his cuff.

"We thought we might go back to Friarstown for a little late lunch," Lily told him cheerfully as Tom and James laughed heartily at his expense. "We saw that perfectly adorable pub on the main street. Fish and chips alright with everyone?"

'Everyone' looked at each other and sort of shrugged assent. So Lily took Tom's hand, James grabbed Padfoot's scruff and Harry got a hold on his arm, and with a sickening lurch, they were in town. Harry wondered if Apparating would feel any better once he learned how to do it himself, or if faint nausea and dizziness were just part of the deal.

They meandered down the main road looking for the pub Lily had spotted. The air was crisp and smelled of summer. Harry allowed himself to relax a little. They would get lunch and then go back to the hotel and have a quiet afternoon.

"That's Thomas Potter!" a little girl shrieked, pointing at them from across the road.

Or not.

Within seconds, a dozen people had congregated around them, shouting and jostling and snapping photos.

Harry hastily extracted himself before he got trampled. No quiet lunches for the Potters, no sir. Sirius joined him quickly afterwards, looking rumpled. "I don't envy them," he muttered, stating the obvious. "Do you want to get something to eat while they're busy here? They may be a while, from the look of things." Harry nodded gratefully. He hadn't brought money, which may have been stupid in retrospect. They slipped into a nearby tea shop and got sandwiches, and sat on the curb to eat them and watch more and more people gather curiously around Tom and Lily and James.

"Could you take me back to the hotel, you think?" Harry eventually asked. The sandwiches were all gone, as were the dozen cookies they'd gotten for dessert afterwards. Forty five minutes had passed, and the crowds showed no signs of abating any time soon.

"They were patient for you at the henge. Shouldn't you return the favour?"

"I didn't force them to stay with me. And I know you're bored here too."

Sirius shrugged his surrender and held out his arm. Harry gripped it, and with a twist and a lurch, they were in a secluded back ally of the town about five miles north-east from their hotel.

"I think I'll go find the kind of pub that doesn't serve fish and chips," Sirius said, stretching his shoulders. Harry nodded mutely, not quite convinced that he wouldn't puke if he opened his mouth. "If you should run into your parents, tell them I won't be in for dinner." Another nod. Sirius gave a cheery salute and headed out for the sunny busy road at the end of the block.

After a few moments, Harry followed him, looking around to get his bearings as he emerged from the side street. He hadn't gone to town when his parents had taken Tom earlier in the week, so he didn't know his way around. He cast his eyes up and down the street, taking in the myriad of kitschy little tourist shops and pubs decorated in four-leaf clover-shaped lights. None of it looked promising. On a whim, he turned left and meandered through the crowds, looking for something to do. A few lefts and rights had him away from the (admittedly small) tourist area and things began looking a little more interesting. He spied a book shop across the street, and cut a long diagonal to get to it. A bell tinkled in the recesses of the dimly lit building as he swung the door open. A fat, white-haired lady bustled up from the back room.

"Afternoon dearie! Is there somethin' specific I can be helping ye with?"

"Greetings and hail from one to another," he said cautiously.

She shot him a sharp glance. "My my my. A wizard, are we? Well met, young sir. Our material's along the back wall." He nodded his thanks and headed back between the shelves.

Ten minutes' perusal allowed him to select a book called _Henges and Their Magical History in the Emerald Isle_. He paid the five Sickles for it and stepped back outside. Now what? He didn't really want to go back to the hotel yet, but Sirius would be halfway to drunk by now, and his family was probably still in Friarstown being mobbed. At a loss, he wandered back towards the touristy area, hoping something interesting would present itself.

"Harry? What are you doing out here?"

He turned around, a smile already spread across his face. Lindsey certainly counted as interesting.

"Hello," he said as she came up next to him. She wheeled a strange contraption next to her. It had two spoked wheels with some metal tubes connected and a narrow leather seat on the top and pair of uneven footrests on the sides and a horizontal bar on the front. "What's that?" he asked, and pointed at the thing.

She looked surprised, then laughed. "I keep forgetting you Brits are so much less integrated with Muggles. This is a bicycle. I guess it's like a broom, but it doesn't fly. Usually."

"How does it work?" he asked eagerly, feeling a lot like Roderick all of a sudden.

"Oh my god, Harry this is going to be hella fun. You're about to learn to ride a bike. Come on, let's get out of town."

He followed her quick pace as she headed along the bustling street. The bike rolled along next to her with a weird clicking, whirring sound. The town fell away from them in very little time, and they were surrounded by the rolling hills and brilliant green grass Ireland was famed for.

"Okay," she said chipperly, spinning about to face him. "Riding a bike is pretty similar to flying, except you're not flying." Harry raised an eyebrow. "Well, fine, it's not like flying in that respect. But otherwise they're totally the same! Except you have to pedal to go forward, and push the brakes to stop, and you can't do barrel rolls. And you'll fall over if you're not moving."

"That sounds useless," Harry told her bluntly.

"Yes, but it's not," she promised. "Here, I'll show you, and then you can try."

He nodded. She took the ends of the horizontal bar in her hands and swung her leg over the seat. "You should start with one pedal ready to be pressed down," she told him, demonstrating with her closer foot. "That way you get good momentum to hold you till you have a rhythm going." He nodded again, pretending to understand.

She pushed off and began going in loopy circles around him. "The thing about turning is that you still have to lean, like with a broom, but you also have to turn the handlebars whichever way you want to go. You have to do both, or you'll fall over. It's easier than it sounds, I pinky swear."

Harry let the American-ism slide, instead watching her easy motions and the smooth movement of the bicycle.

"You think you've got a good look? Here, you try it." Her fingers flexed around a pair of odd little plastic bits and the bicycle slowed, then stopped. She dismounted, and wheeled the machine towards Harry, who eyed it distrustfully. He liked brooms. There were all sorts of sturdy spells interwoven with the wood of his Nimbus. All that stood between him and injury on this funny Muggle thing was his ability to learn some decidedly vague instructions on very short notice. She showed him how to hold the handlebars and how to brake and pedal, and then let him mount up.

Harry decided straight away that he didn't particularly fancy the bicycle. His arms were spread far too far apart, wreaking havoc with his centre of balance. And who could think of steering AND pedaling at the same time? Lindsey ran alongside him, laughing and shouting out instructions.

He fell a few times, resulting in grass stains and a smacked funny bone.

"You're doing well," Lindsey encouraged, plopping down next to him after his most recent tumble. "When I was trying to learn as a kid, I fell over and the handbrakes cut my thigh right open. I didn't try again for years."

"You're making me so confident," he said dryly.

"Hey! You told me the other day that you broke your friggin' _arm_ the first time you flew on a broom!"

"Point taken. But at least I have some talent for flying. This bicycle thing is useless."

"I told you, you're doing a ton better than most people when they start out. Wanna try again?"

He heaved a sigh. "Sure." He remounted, pushed down on the pedal, and this time something just… worked. He was moving! He was riding a bicycle!

"WOHOO!" Lindsey crowed behind him, euphoric in her success as a teacher. Harry grinned as the wind whipped past his face. She was right: this really was like flying. And it was fun! He experimented with turning, and was amazed and excited to find that he didn't tip right over. He even managed to brake fairly neatly as they came abreast of each other, Lindsey's blue eyes shining with glee.

"And now for my ulterior motives," she announced. "We may tip over the first couple times we try this, but what I really want now is to sit on the handlebars and ride back to the hotel with you."

Harry stared at her. "How would that even work? How would I see? How would we balance?"

"We'll figure all that out as we go," she responded blithely. "So you keep your feet planted while I hop up front. Then you start pedaling like normal. Okay?"

Still convinced that this idea would lead to their imminent dooms, he nodded. The bike wobbled dangerously as she perched herself on the middle of the handlebars. "Ready, go!" she called, and Harry propelled the bike forward unevenly.

To his everlasting astonishment, they didn't fall over, not even when they went over the pot hole and Lindsey nearly toppled off. It took twenty minutes to get back to the hotel, and by then they were both wildly exhilarated (not only from the speed Harry maintained) but from their success in the first place.

"That was freaking awesome!" she yelled as she jumped off. They were by the lough, some hundred yards above the Quidditch pitch. Harry laughed and dismounted, only to have his knees nearly buckle under him. "Sorry," she giggled, hurrying over. "I should have warned you about that. It'll take a second for your muscles to get out of bike-mode and into walking-mode." She put her arm around his waist to steady him. Impulsively, he leaned in and kissed her.

He pulled away a second later, and she said "Wow! You're good at that!" with what he felt was an undue amount of surprise. "Have you ever kissed anyone before?"

"Yeah, once," he replied, shaking his legs out. "When my friend Daphne turned eleven, she asked for her first kiss, and I gave it to her."

"Oh my god, that's freaking adorable! I wish I had done that. My first kiss totally sucked."

"How so?" he asked as they started walking down towards the hotel.

"Oh, I was in like second year or something, and my school and the Merlin Gates School for Young Wizards did a joint trip… somewhere, I don't even remember now. And this one kid, um, Michael, always insisted on sitting next to me on the bus, and it was totally annoying 'cause I wanted to sit with my friends, so I asked him what it would take for him to bug off, and he said a kiss. So… I kissed him."

"That's not _so_ bad…"

"Well, no, and in some ways it was kinda sweet, in an awkward way. But it's not how a girl wants her first kiss to go, I'll tell you that."

"Fair point. Do you have plans for the rest of the day?"

"Yes, unfortunately. My grandparents and I are Flooing to my aunt and uncle and cousin's house to spend the evening. He goes to Hogwarts, actually, my cousin. Do you know him? Cameron O'Harris, of Hufflepuff. He's what, seventeen, I think? Yeah, a year older than me. Going into his last year, I suppose."

Harry shook his head. "It's hard to make friends with people if they're in other years and other Houses unless you do extracurriculars like Quidditch together."

Lindsey shrugged. "I didn't expect you to. Just thought I'd ask."

"Margret! Margret dear, we're leaving for your uncle Liam's now. Come on in!"

Lindsey rolled her eyes. "My grandma refuses to say my first name. She doesn't think 'Lindsey' is 'respectable' enough, so she only uses my middle one, Margret."

"That must be terribly frustrating sometimes," Harry suggested.

"Yeah." She sighed, then shrugged. "But it's only for a month. Not the end of the world, ya know? And sometimes I piss her off by ignoring her."

"MARGRET!"

"But not right now. See you later, Harry!" She took the bicycle from him and dashed off towards the diminutive old lady standing by the door marked 'private', who was tapping her foot impatiently. Harry waved after her till the door slammed shut, then let his arm drop. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and wandered back inside, somewhat at a loss for what to do. Other guests sat around in the common area on the first level, reading or playing chess or writing, and this last reminded him that he hadn't yet responded to Delf and Roderick's latest letters.

Their suite was quiet from the lack of his family and golden with late-afternoon sun. He retrieved his letters from the pages of a book he'd brought and took them out into the sitting room.

He scanned Roderick's first, since he wanted to tell him about riding the bicycle and kissing Lindsey before the sensations faded.

_Dear Harry,_  
_How's Ireland treating you? Has Tom driven you bonkers yet? From the tone of your last letter, I'd hazard a guess the answer will be yes._  
_Speaking of your letter though, are you lying to me about this Lindsey? Attractive, American, and interested in you? Harry. I can't stress this enough: make the most of it. Learn to flirt! American girls are notoriously easy, and these are invaluable life skills we're talking about here. You may want to put a limit on what you tell Delf though. I happened to be at her house when she got your letter, and her eyes looked like they'd been lit on fire._

Harry shuddered at the image, and tried to remember what he'd said that could have made her so furious. Drawing a blank, he carried on.

_Things are going about as well as they can be expected to here. Draco's strutting around like a peacock because he got an O (Potions). I just want to scream "Guess what: I got five!" but I doubt that would do any good._  
_Anyway, my problems aside, write soon._  
_—Roderick_

Harry frowned. His friend's good humor tended to wear thin over summer, and it always worried him when it did. Roderick was not the sort of person who responded well to depression.

Deciding to read Delf's letter before responding to either one, he unrolled the parchment.

_Dear Harry,_ he read.  
_Not that I doubt your morals or anything, but if I were you I'd be extremely careful with that American girl. They're notoriously easy, and you can't be sure of where she's been._

He wondered if they had purposefully used the same phrase, or if that was just a thing people said about American girls he hadn't known about.

_All I'm saying is, take care. She may just use you for a summer fling and then go away and break your heart. I'm honestly concerned for you, Harry._

He shook his head. Delf probably wouldn't like Lindsey if they ever had a chance to meet, but that didn't make Lindsey a bad person. Delf probably wouldn't understand that though.

_On another topic, my cousins are horrible. Maria thinks she's an adult now because (she says) she and Adam Quick snogged behind the Quidditch stands at the end of term. I told her that lying didn't make her an adult, and neither would Adam Quick, even if he did like kissing girls. The only good thing is that I think I'll be taller than her by next year, so I'll get to stop wearing her tatty old hand-me-downs. David has a job at the Daily Prophet, and my aunt seems to think it's the first step to becoming Minister for Magic somehow. I'm not going to pretend to understand their family. Or like them, as a matter of fact._  
Anyway, I hope Ireland is interesting, at least, even if there are three more Potters than you had planned on. I can't wait to see you again!  
Love, Delf

Harry smiled as he rerolled the parchment. He seemed to think this every time he got a letter from her, but she always had a way of raising his spirits.

A rattling at the door distracted him from finishing the line that began _Dear Roder_. His father opened the door and entered, laughing at something Tom was saying. Lily followed after, rolling her eyes. They looked like a perfectly normal, happy family coming home from a nice day out. Harry wondered what it would feel like to be included. They all froze when they saw him. He stood up and met their gazes evenly, not expecting anything.

"Harry!" His mother finally broke the silence. "When—? That is, how—? Why did you—?"

"You shouldn't leave without telling us like that. You should have known better," James admonished.

"Before you leap to conclusions, you should know that Sirius is lying dead in a back ally of Friarstown. The wizards who jumped us put a Silencing Charm and a full body bind hex on me and dragged me away, but you didn't notice. Only with great strength and cunning was I finally able to escape and make my way back. One of the guys is trussed up in the loo." James, Lily and Tom stared at him. "That was a joke."

"Harry, being a smart arse is not an acceptable form of communication with your parents," James said sternly.

"You didn't notice I was gone," Harry told him. "You can't be angry if it took seeing me again to remind you I wasn't there. Nothing new, I suppose." His father was stunned to silence. His brother's mouth hung open. "Sirius says he won't be home till late. I guess you've eaten already?"

Lily managed a weak nod. He nodded back, accepting what he had already known. "I'll go get supper downstairs then."

And that's what he did. He ate alone in the dining room, surrounded by couples and families enjoying themselves who watched him sullenly pick at his trout out of the corners of their eyes. He found himself unwilling to return to the room afterwards, so he meandered outside and sat in the center of the empty Quidditch pitch and watched the sun set into the lough. The brilliant sunset seemed like a pyre, but for what, he wasn't sure.

His parents were in their room when he returned upstairs. He saw through Sirius' open door that his room was still empty. He collected the letters he'd left on the corner table, and pushed into his and Tom's room, purposefully not knocking. His brother glanced up when he walked in.

"Mum and Dad had a giant row because of you after you left," he said coldly, leaning back over his game of Ireland-themed Exploding Snaps. Harry heard the subtext: 'You are the root of all of our problems'.

"Good," he said flatly.

Tom made a disgusted noise through his nose, but didn't respond. Harry went to the desk by his bed and put the page with Dear Roder on top of the stack of parchment. ' _ick_ ,' he finished the word, and tapped the quill against his lips thoughtfully. Where to start? So much had happened that day.

_Today I studied Animagi transformations up close and personal, learned to ride some Muggle thing called a 'bicycle', kissed Lindsey, and pissed off my mum and dad._

He tried to sketch a bicycle, but it didn't go particularly well. It looked like an odd breed of pufferfish. He carried on with the proper letter.

_The drawing is disgraceful, I know. But it was really fun! I didn't like it as much as flying, but then, there aren't many things I like as much as flying anyway. And right after that I kissed Lindsey, just because I wanted to. If I had only known it was that easy with Cho! And she said I was a good kisser. She's going to teach me how to flirt properly too. What do you say to that?_

He carried on at some length, explaining all about the henge, meditating, witnessing his dad and Sirius' Animagi transformations, and the mob at Friarstown that had sent him back to the town near the hotel where he'd met Lindsey and ridden the bicycle. He skimmed over the bit about his family getting in, including only his lie about getting kidnapped, which he thought passing clever.

_All told, I can't tell if this holiday is a total flop yet or not. I'm sorry Draco's being a prat. Tom didn't get any O's, which is a mixed blessing: he keeps whining because he thinks he deserves them, but he's not able to brag about having any. What do you think about how we can study for our Animagi transformations? I doubt I can get another look like that, but I got a pretty good idea of how it works. Write back quickly!_  
Your friend, Harry  
PS: what shouldn't I tell Delf? I don't know what made her so angry last time.  
PPS: have you heard of Cameron O'Harris from Hufflepuff? That's Lindsey's cousin. He's going into seventh year. Just wondering.

He folded the page and spilled a blob of wax from the candle next to his elbow to seal it.

_Dear Delf,_ he began.

_You may not believe me when I say this, but Lindsey's a pretty nice person. She's funny and nice and thinks I'm a good kisser. And I guess I don't really mind if she uses me for a summer fling._

"Would you put out the light?" Tom interrupted grouchily. Harry looked over his shoulder to see the rumpled boy peering blearily at him from under the duvet. "Some of us actually enjoy sleeping sometimes."

"Good for those people," Harry retorted. "Some people enjoy writing their friends and actually hearing back."

Tom heaved a frustrated breathe and pulled the blankets over his head.

_We've made it clear we're both using the other in different ways. You don't need to worry one bit!_

_Besides all that, today when we went to a henge, Dad and Sirius did their Animagi transformations, and I sensed the sort of magic they used to do it. It was so interesting. I think the main thing for us will just to be to study the theory and drill all the tiny little details until we'd know them in our sleep. Then when we change, we put them all together under one master command which is the change itself. I'll explain it better when we're all back together with Master Jerome. But I'm very excited to get started on this. What sort of bird do you think we should do? Roderick still likes his owl idea, but I'm not eager to tie a scroll to my leg every time we go out. I know you said parrots last time I asked, but you were joking (right?). I think we ought to do ravens or crows or something like that. There are flocks and flocks of them around Hogwarts, so it would be very easy to blend in._  
I'm sorry your cousins are being monsters. If it's any consolation, Tom is still Tom. He's upset with me right now because his friends aren't writing to him, and mine are (I mean you and Roderick). I can't wait to see you either. I promise I'll visit directly when I get back. In the meantime, try not to kill Maria or David and I'll try not to kill Tom or Mum and Dad.  
Your friend, Harry

-o-

"We were thinking we could all go shopping today," Lily said causally the next morning. "It's a beautiful day, and I wouldn't mind picking up some souvenirs."

It was true: it was beautiful outside. The birds were chirping, and the sun was shining. Harry knew that better than they did. He had been jogging as the birds awoke, and meditating as the sun rose. Lindsey hadn't been swimming that morning. Harry figured she was sleeping in after staying late at her cousin's.

They were all sitting around in the sitting room of their suite, finishing the lavish complimentary breakfast room service had brought them. Sirius' door was closed and locked, and the Silencing Charm prevented them from hearing what were surely very loud snores.

"We can go to Dublin," Tom piped up. "Seamus lives there. Can I write and see if he can come?"

Lily smiled indulgently. "Of course, darling. Go do that now, why don't you?" Tom got up and scampered off to his and Harry's room.

"Then I can bring Lindsey, right?"

Lily's lips tightened. "I'm sure she has her own plans, Harry."

"But what if she doesn't? Can't I ask? Tom gets to bring a friend."

He watched with grim amusement as his mother tried to come up with a viable reason to refute his logic. "If she has no plans of her own," she finally snapped, and walked stiffly to the master bedroom. The door shut.

James frowned. "Harry, if I could offer a bit of advice, I'd say that you may want to lay off spending so much time with Lindsey. It really upsets your mum."

"Thanks, but I'm not going to build my life around what does or doesn't piss Mum off. I like Lindsey, and Mum has no good reason not to."

Tom came back into the sitting room with a bit of parchment in his hand. "Where's Mum?"

"Sulking," Harry replied, getting up and heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" his brother asked.

"To find Lindsey. Mum said she can come with us."

Tom's mouth dropped open. "But—this is a family trip!" he spluttered.

"And Seamus is family?" Harry asked sarcastically, and stepped out into the hallway before Tom could come up with a retort.

He found Lindsey eating breakfast down in the dining room, spooning cornflakes into her mouth and staring abstractly into space.

"Good morning," he said, sitting down in the chair opposite hers.

She started. "Harry! Hi! I was actually just thinking about you. You never told me you were awesome."

Taken aback at her somewhat accusatory tone, he wondered aloud, "What makes you think I should have?"

"Uh, everything? I mentioned to Cameron last night that you were staying at the hotel, and he told me that you're like, the coolest person at Hogwarts. Won every Quidditch game ever played much? Smartest person there and really nice to boot? These are the sorts of things you tell people!"

"Telling you I've won every Quidditch game I've ever played would be bragging; saying I'm the smartest person at school would be a lie; and how am I to say how nice I am?"

"Oh my god, this is exactly what he was talking about. He said you were totally humble too. Smart and nice and humble and respectful and funny and…. Jeez, I think Cameron is crushing on you pretty hard."

He shifted in his seat. "Listen, we're going shopping in Dublin today… Do you want to come?"

She raised an eyebrow. "And I assume you have your parent's total support in asking me this."

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, not exactly. Mum says you can come 'as long as you have no plans of your own'. The only reason she even gave me that much is because Tom's meeting a friend there."

"Well, as it just so happens, I don't have any plans of my own, so I'm perfectly available to escort you on your shopping trip. Ooh, I can teach you how to shop for girls! This'll be awesome!"

Lily, of course, was not at all happy to hear that Lindsey would be coming along. They Apparated to Dublin three hours after making plans to do so, since they needed to wait for Seamus to owl back if he could meet them, which he could. Sirius stayed behind, nursing a hangover he declared 'monstrous' before falling back to sleep.

Seamus had told them of a small square off the beaten path with all kinds of anti-Muggle enchantments all over it. Sort of a miniature Diagon Alley where wizards could go to get random potions ingredients or books or gifts or gossip. Seamus met them by the entrance, waving happily when he saw Tom and looking thunderstruck when he saw Lindsey on Harry's arm. A little later, when their parents had been introduced, Harry overheard Seamus whispering to Tom, "Who's the looker hanging on your brother?" and could barely restrain his laughter at Tom's mutinous expression.

The day passed surprisingly smoothly. He and Lindsey had a good time of showing off how well they got along, and when that got boring, they went off by themselves and she lectured him on what a girl would think if he got any particular sort of gift. She was quite impressed when she saw how well he knew his way around jewelry, especially when he bought her a very pretty pair of blue topaz earrings. He also got Delf a pair made of interlinking circles of opal and onyx, so they wouldn't clash with her eyes, no matter what color they were. He noticed that James seemed to stick closer to them than was strictly necessary, but ignored him.

They headed back to the hotel after a few hours, since Lily's temper became shorter and shorter by the moment as Harry and Lindsey proceeded to enjoy each other's company throughout the day, so when Tom asked to go back, their parents quickly acquiesced. Lindsey had promised the rest of the day to her grandparents, so Harry spent the afternoon reading. Tom seemed inexplicably happy about something, and disappeared into their room immediately upon getting back. He emerged some minutes later clutching a pair of pages of parchment in his fist.

"I need some owls," he announced. James was dozing in an armchair, and Lily was reading on the porch outside and didn't hear.

"What do you want me to do it about it?" Harry asked. "And I thought you weren't writing your friends or something?"

"Well, you see, Seamus says Ron wrote him last week to ask if he'd done something to upset me since I wasn't writing him back, so Seamus asked me today, and I told him I hadn't been getting Ron's letters. So we're not fighting, something was just getting in the way of our letters reaching each other. These are to Ron and Hermione." He raised the letters for Harry to see.

"I had made that brilliant deduction," Harry replied. "But again, what do you want me to do about your need for owls?"

"Can I borrow Hedwig?"

"No."

"Whyyyy?" he whined.

"For one thing, she's not here."

"Where is she?"

"Delivering my letters to my friends, of course."

"Oh. Where can I get others?"

"I don't know, Tom," Harry said, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "Why don't you ask the people at the reception desk?"

"Oh. Right. Fine." Tom went to the door, opened it, and left.

-o-

The next day when Harry and Lindsey came in from running and swimming, respectively, they met the Potters going into breakfast. As was her habit, Lily tightened her lips and turned her face away from them since they came in with Harry's arm slung over Lindsey's shoulders and her arm around his waist. Tom looked at them thoughtfully for a moment, then turned to James and said,

"Dad, I think it would be fun to get up with Harry one day and exercise with him."

Harry's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "I'll eat my Nimbus the day you get up at six in the morning and run a mile," he said mildly before James could reply.

"Done," Tom said, looking at him coldly.

"I think that's an excellent idea, Tom," Lily declared. Harry and Lindsey glanced at each other confusedly. "Anyway, Harry, we've decided that we're going to spend the day here and relax. We'd appreciate it if you could spare a few hours to spend with your _family_ at some point," she added pointedly.

"No offense, Mum, but that doesn't sound particularly relaxing to me. Want to go swimming again, Lindsey?"

"Like, always," Lindsey replied.

So they skipped breakfast and went back outside to the lake.

"So Harry," she began. "I was impressed by how well you knew your way around jewelry. But jewelry is for later on when you know the girl well and you really want to impress her. But there's like, a lot that comes before that." They were waist deep in the water some four meters out from shore. James and Tom had come out shortly after them and James was trying to teach Tom some basic Quidditch maneuvers.

"First is flirting," she continued, obviously very happy with the subject. "You want to start out with a basic, vague compliment. Avoid clothes, 'cause she'll think you're like, hella gay, but definitely throw one in there when you're just saying hello. 'You look great' is a popular one, but the adjective is interchangeable with like, any synonym. Except don't say 'fabulous'. Got it?" Harry nodded dutifully. "Good. Now, you've already proven you're good at just, like, talking to girls. You've been talking to me for two weeks or whatever, so I don't need to say anything about that. The important thing when you're talking to a girl you like is to not treat her like a friend. Counterintuitive, I know, but bear with me. You want to be extra attentive to her. You don't want to take her for granted, like, ever. The tricky thing is, you have to time asking her out exactly right. Don't wait too long or she'll think you're leading her on. You want to make it be a nice moment, but not too dramatic. In the big scheme of things, it's only a date. And be direct! You don't want to leave a girl guessing if she's just been asked out or not. If it goes your way, she'll be flattered by your attention, but if she doesn't like you, at least no one has to second-guess anything. Got all that?"

"I think so." Honestly, Harry had had no idea that there was so much politics that went into asking a girl out. He had just sort of gone on his gut with Cho, but then, that hadn't lasted very well.

"Okay, so. You've been talking to this girl. You like her, so you've asked her out. You do whatever it is you do for dates in Britain. Like, drink tea or something." She cracked up laughing.

"Tea is not our only sustenance, I'll have you know," Harry replied stiffly. "Nor is drinking it a form of recreation."

"I know, I know," she giggled. "I'm teasing. But seriously. You've gone on a date. Should you kiss her after?" She didn't wait for him to muddle through a response: "Probably not. First-date kisses are tricky, so unless it went spectacularly well and you're totally going to marry her, don't do it. Especially at our age. When we're adults, whatever, go for it. Anyway… There's a natural progression to kisses as you get to know her. That should go without saying. First kisses are sweet, and usually pretty short. After that comes making out—what would you call that: snogging?—and tonguing and all the sexy good stuff. Like talking to girls, you've proven you're okay at the first-kiss thing, though if we were actually together, you would have wanted to ask me out first. The bike thing would have been an awesome first date, come to think of it. Oh, one more thing: when you're trying to get a girl to be interested in you, _don't make her jealous_. Show off as much as you like, but make her jealous and you will regret it for the rest of your life. Anyway. Kissing! It's okay if she doesn't necessarily respond the first time you do it, especially if you surprise her like you did me. You have to allow for a little shock. But two, three times later, if it's still all you, there may be a problem. Here, kiss me."

Harry blinked. "Sorry?"

"Kiss me. I'm gonna show you what it's like for a girl to not respond."

"Erm… alright then." He sloshed forward through the navel-high water and placed his mouth against hers, feeling distinctly self-conscious. He backed off a second later, a little hot in the face.

"That was good," she encouraged. "But did you see how that was you kissing me, not us kissing each other? That's a very important distinction that a lot of guys don't know how to make. Now do it again."

A little more comfortable now, he leaned forward and kissed her once more. This time her lips moved and molded against his: she kissed him back. They broke apart after a few moments.

"You see?" she asked, slightly out of breath. "That is us kissing each other. And you're good at it, I'd like to add. Like, really."

Something was buzzing in Harry's head as he said "Er, thanks."

"Now, making out is a whole other basket of pixies. For one thing, physical build-up counts. You can't just _go_ for it. You want to break the personal space barrier with something other than your lips first. Touch her hand, or her waist, or her cheek, _then_ kiss her. Here, go ahead."

So Harry reached out and put his hand on her waist (as he had secretly wanted to do all morning), and leaned in and kissed her. She had been right when she said snogging was different from just kissing. His whole body somehow got involved without him telling it to: his arms were around her waist, his chest was pressed close against hers, his tongue—

"HARRY!"

Curse his father.

They broke apart, slightly breathless, to see James and Tom bearing down on them furiously. They both hovered some two meters off the surface of the lake, glaring down through their spectacles.

"Harry, I'm ashamed of you. That's completely inappropriate behavior for someone your age. Go inside and get dressed."

"Mr. Potter, we were just kissing," Lindsey protested, playing the part of an innocently confused girl to a tee. "It's no big deal."

"I'll be the judge of what's a big deal for my son, thank you, young lady. Harry, I am serious."

"No, you're James," Harry muttered. Lindsey spluttered.

"What did you say?" Tom demanded bossily. "Listen to Dad, Harry. You had no right to be doing that sort of thing in front of me." Harry heard what he really meant: 'I'd rather be doing that _with_ her.'

"Jeez, aren't you pompous?" Lindsey said, crossing her arms.

Tom gaped at her wordlessly.

"Dad, just because I didn't have to chase a girl for six years before she'd kiss me does not make it inappropriate."

"Your dad had to chase a girl for _six years_?" Lindsey asked incredulously.

"Yeah, my mum," Harry laughed.

"Well—! That doesn't—!" James protested.

"Come off it, Dad. If you were my age, could you pass this up?" He indicated the girl at his side.

"For Merlin's sake, that…. I mean I…. Go inside and get dressed, Harry!"

Laughing, Harry did, and Lindsey followed.

-o-

A week later, Harry got the shock of his life: Tom followed through on his threat to get up early and exercise with him, and he'd gotten their parents and Sirius on board too.

They were all waiting for him in the sitting room when he came out. Sirius looked exhausted after another late night of carousing, James and Lily looked sleepy but determined, and Tom looked triumphant.

"Get ready to eat your Nimbus," he said before Harry could muster so much as a 'what are you doing out here?'.

"Getting up at six was only half the bargain," he snapped. "I seriously doubt you can run a full mile."

"Harry, be kind to your brother. He's trying to show that he admires you by copying what you're doing," Lily reprimanded sharply. Tom and Harry snorted with simultaneous derision.

The walk through the hotel was awkward: Harry was used to being alone in the early-morning silence, but the four people behind him seemed to think it would be a lovely time to engage in lively conversation about what a beautiful day it was. Their chatter set Harry's teeth on edge. He looked around hopefully as they stepped outside, and was rewarded to see Lindsey swimming laps a half dozen meters from shore.

"Morning!" he shouted to her.

Tom sniggered when she kept swimming. She hadn't heard. Harry glared at his brother before setting off along the shore at a quick jog. He had established a rout over the two and a half weeks' worth of morning runs: along the shore of the lake next to the Quidditch pitch; right at the corner of the inn; right at the front of the inn and across the gravel drive; another right to head back towards the lake. Repeat as desired.

Tom was lagging by the time they reached the first corner. James and Lily were breathing hard by the time they reached the second corner. Even Sirius, who sometimes went with him on his morning runs when they were on holiday together, was straggling by the third corner. It was a large hotel, and Harry was running faster than he usually did, to be sure. He was angry. Wasn't it enough that they had barged in on his and Sirius' holiday? Did they have to insinuate themselves into every aspect of his life? He wanted to teach them a lesson.

Lindsey was still swimming when he dashed along the shore, alone, and he resisted the urge to jump in with her. He passed Tom by at the front of the hotel.

"Not as easy as it looks, is it?" he asked meanly as he jogged past. Tom was too out of breath to say anything.

He caught up with his parents, who had slowed to a walk, at the third corner. "No one's making you do this," he told them.

"We're doing it for the same reason you are, Harry!" Lily called after him.

"I'm doing it because I _usually_ enjoy it. You're doing it to prove a point!" Harry shouted over his shoulder, and turned the last corner to the lake without hearing the retort she surely made.

Sirius was sitting in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, staring into space and twisting the large silver ring around his thumb.

"I'm going swimming," Harry said with thinly veiled anger, and dropped his shirt on the grass.

"Don't be too hard on them, Harry," Sirius implored. "They do mean well."

"Well, they're doing it wrong," Harry replied sharply. He left his godfather alone and headed for the lake. The water was cold against his skin, but a welcome distraction from the frustration he felt towards his family. Lindsey persisted in not noticing as he drew closer and closer, and when he was just a few meters away, he dove underwater, and swam till he was underneath her. She looked like a fuzzy blob since he had his eyes open underwater, but he could see her well enough to reach out and tickle her ribs. He could hear her scream. He was laughing as he came up for air, but coughed as she immediately splashed water in his face.

"HARRY! I'm gonna murder you!" she screeched, half laughing, and obviously not angry.

"Fine, kill me, but then help me piss my family off," he said in a low voice, pointing his eyebrows back toward the grassy shore.

She followed the gesture with her eyes and grinned wickedly when she saw the scene: "This is gonna be _wicked_ awesome. Oh my god, just wait till you see. Come on." She began a languid frog stroke towards the edge of the water, and Harry followed in her wake, curious and excited.

He saw what she meant as soon as she stood up in the shallow water: her usual swim suit was a dark green one-piece. Harry was so used to it that he hadn't even noticed she had on something different till she made it impossible to notice anything else. That morning she had on a navy-blue-and-yellow-polka-dotted bikini that was so skimpy there probably wasn't a square foot of fabric to be had off it. Harry couldn't help his mouth falling open.

She turned around to face him, still knee-deep in the lake and grinning like a maniac. "So what do you think?" she asked. As if she couldn't tell! "I had to ask my friend in Santa Cruz to send it out special. I hoped you would like it," she added, her smile turning coy.

"I—I do," he stammered. "You look… incredible."

"Thank you, Harry. That's nice of you." She winked before turning around and strolling up onto the grass. Only then did Harry see the expressions on James, Lily, Tom, and Sirius' faces. James and Lily wore identical tight-lipped looks of disapproval; Tom was obviously seething; Sirius just looked impressed.

"You know what sounds like fun?" Lindsey asked of the world in general, and Harry in particular.

"I've no idea," he replied, relatively sure she knew where she was going with this without him contributing anything.

"Yoga." She picked up her towel and began rubbing her hair vigorously.

"Alright…"

Her fists went to her hips. "You've seriously never done yoga before?"

"I don't think so."

"Okay, new plan for the day: Harry's first ever official yoga lesson! Come on, come on, it's flat on the Quidditch field."

"Pitch," he corrected automatically.

"Whatever. I swear you speak another language over here…" She led the way to the center of the pitch and laid her towel out flat on the grass. Harry pretended not to feel the stares of his parents and brother on his neck.

"Stand here," Lindsey instructed, pointing at the middle of her towel. Harry complied, and she stood in front of him, facing out towards the lake. "Copy me," she said over her shoulder, and proceeded to lead him through a series of stretches and poses. He executed these without much skill: he was strong and had moderately good balance, but he was not very flexible, and he wobbled dangerously more than a few times. Not to mention, Lindsey was proving to be extremely distracting: she was attractive in her usual swimming suit. In the bikini, and moving the way she was, she was nearly overwhelming.

In the midst of a confusingly twisted pose she called 'warrior two', he lost his balance entirely and toppled right over. Coincidentally, he landed right on top of her. They tumbled to the ground in a jumble of limbs and startled exclamations. Harry wound up lying on his front with Lindsey's arm under his stomach and her hair in his face. Their legs were tangled beyond hope, and she was laughing hysterically.

"Oh my god, I couldn't have _choreographed_ that any better! Your face! Hahaha! That was epic!"

Harry grinned as he rolled over to release her arm. It had been a rather spectacular fall. But all of a sudden, his stomach growled. Loudly.

Lindsey giggled. "A little hungry there, are we? I didn't have breakfast either. Wanna go?"

He agreed gratefully, and helped her fold up her towel. He took a necessary detour near to his family to collect his shirt, and Sirius gave him a covert thumbs-up and a grin. Tom glared, as if that would get Harry to do something different. His parents didn't look at him.

The hotel was coming awake as they entered the dining area. Drowsy children begged for sweets for breakfast, and were mostly refused. Parents slurped coffee and stared at newspapers without reading them.

Harry and Lindsey were heading for the buffet when a shrill voice pulled them up short: "MARGRET!" Lindsey jumped.

They slowly turned to see the diminutive grey-haired hostess looking extremely displeased. "What are you wearing?"

"I forgot you had people to watch out for too," Harry muttered out of the side of his mouth.

"Fasho." He wasn't quite sure if that was an agreement or not, but there was no way to ask.

"Come here right now," her grandmother snapped. Lindsey was probably fifteen centimeters taller than the elderly woman, but the hunch to her shoulders made her look like a small child. Harry hoped he hadn't gotten her in too much trouble, but she glanced over her shoulder and smiled as she was led from the room, so he knew she'd be alright.

He had his usual omelet for breakfast, and headed upstairs to shower and dress.

"Mr. Potter?" the attendant at the reception desk called as he crossed the entry hall to the stairs. "Harry Potter? You have two letters here." His heart lifted.

_Dear Harry,_

He had Delf's letter open before he was even to the top of the stairs.

_I don't doubt that she's very charming and attractive. But she is older. And she is American._

Harry rolled his eyes.

_You just need to be careful. That's all I'm saying._  
The way you talk about studying to be Animagi sounds a lot like how we already study for Ancient Runes. Except I suppose the end result will be much more impressive, won't it? And yes, I was joking about being parrots. But can you imagine a trio of parrots wreaking havoc in the Great Hall over breakfast? That would definitely have to go in the scrapbook. But I think I agree with you in that since (against my better judgment) we're doing birds, we ought to do something like crows or ravens. You have to explain this whole henge thing to me in more detail when you get home. It sounds fascinating. Ancient wizards and witches were so much cooler than us…  
David and Maria are SO ANNOYING! Between David writing to the Prophet every day and Maria writing to Adam Quick (she says), I've barely seen Sugar or Babbit, let alone had a chance to send either of them to Ireland for you.

Babbit and Sugar were the Greengrass' two owls. Delf and Astoria had named the little black-with-white-speckles one Sugar nearly seven years ago, and Dwight had named their large grouchy barn owl Babbit after Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump.

_Would you believe I actually heard David tell Mum she couldn't use Babbit because he had to send an article in? I snuck a look at it and it was about Hinkipunk spit being a good laxative. I wrote better essays in first year. Next time I'll just keep Hedwig till I've finished writing you back. I couldn't do that this time because she still had to go to Roderick. He's grounded, by the way, and apologizes in advance if his letter's late._  
Visit as soon as you get home! I miss you and can't wait to see you again.  
Love, Delf

Harry smiled and folded her letter back up. He had reached the room by then, and was comfortably situated on the sofa. As usual, Delf's letter had lifted his spirits.

He cracked the wax seal on Roderick's envelope and drew the parchment out.

_Dear Harry,  
I showed Tracey your drawing of a bicycle and she about died laughing. She doesn't have one, but she says we can go to a Muggle park when you get home and watch some. When are you due home anyway? A little over a week, right? I only ask because that will mean we get to start with Master Jerome soon, and that will get me out of being grounded. It's all a bit stupid: I was doing some research into our family tree, and discovered a Muggle-born a few generations back. It didn't look like a big problem to me, but when I brought it up at supper, Dad lost it and grounded me indefinitely. It was probably stupid of me, but it happened._

Harry grimaced sympathetically. Mr Malfoy was not known as a particularly magnanimous or open-minded man, and Roderick's frank interest in all things Muggle must be as annoying as a toothache.

_You know what I just thought of? We've spent all this time talking about Animagi and how we're going to learn to do it, but we haven't thought of asking Master Jerome if he's one or not. It'd be just like him to not tell us. What do you think he'd be?_  
YOU KISSED LINDSEY? Harry, I said to learn to FLIRT. This isn't fair! You're ahead of me now! (Delf's eleventh birthday doesn't count) Where am I supposed to find an attractive American girl who's willing to snog me? Nowhere, that's where. What was it like?  
Cameron O'Harris is a Prefect for Hufflepuff. That's all I know.  
See you soon.  
—Roderick

-o-

The next day was Amelia Bones' birthday celebration. The five of them Apparated to the designated spot, which turned out to be a very well situated red brick house some ten kilometers outside the town of Bantry, quite a ways south of their hotel. They immediately broke apart to find peers and friends. Tom knew Amelia's niece Susan slightly from school; James was appropriated by Mr Fudge and Mr Crouch pretty fast; Lily spotted a gaggle of friends around the refreshments table and hurried off; Sirius hailed Kingsly and they fell to discussing something or other that made them laugh awfully loud. Harry looked around with hopeless hope for someone he knew: the Malfoys moved in these circles. Perhaps Roderick would be there?

But after half an hour of useless circulating, he gave up. He could only endure it, and wish for a sudden cloudburst to end the party early. He should have brought a book.

He found a spot under a large nearby oak tree and settled in for a boring day. This party was no different from any other formal function he'd ever been forced to go to in his brother's shadow. He knew what was going to happen: Tom would somehow orchestrate things so that he'd wind up at the centre of attention, and they'd leave an hour and a half later than they were supposed to.

Case in point, Tom had abandoned his classmate and was surrounded by a cluster of mid-ranking Department Heads, who were nodding gravely at whatever inane thing the boy was espousing.

The breeze brought him snatches of Tom's monologue, and he was able to deduce after a little while that he was suddenly very concerned that people be judged for their deeds rather than their appearances. His example was if there were two men and one was virtuous but plain, and the other was handsome but wicked, a woman ought to fancy the virtuous one rather than the handsome one. Harry could hardly believe his ears. Was Tom _that_ jealous that Lindsey wasn't interested in him? A slow smile began to spread over his face, and he climbed to his feet.

Tom didn't notice Harry standing at his shoulder, at first. He kept his tirade right going: "…I mean, it's completely unfair to be judged by what's on the outside! The woman should take her time and judge each man according to what kind of person he is before deciding who she fancies."

"I completely agree," Harry cut in. Tom jumped a foot in the air. "But I really think you're over-simplifying the laws of attraction. Liking someone often isn't ruled by what sort of person you are based only on a scale of goodness and wickedness."

He saw the Heads gathered around them were starting to lose the glazed look of utter boredom, and smiled to himself.

"Yes it is!" Tom blustered. "You wouldn't fancy someone who was a Death Eater, would you?"

"That would depend on my hypothetical self's views on Death Eaters. We know many of them _are_ married, after all, so some people must fancy them. That was the problem with your original example too. You assume the woman to be morally neutral. What if she were also beautiful and wicked? If that were the case, she would definitely be more drawn to the handsome man, wouldn't you say?"

The Heads were watching with open enjoyment now, some grinning to each other and nodding.

"That is not the point! My argument is that she shouldn't judge them by how they look because what's inside is totally different from what she expects. The wicked one is less worthy of love than the virtuous one but he still gets it because he's handsome."

"That's another thing: why are we using such extreme examples? 'Wicked' and 'virtuous'. What if one of the men is just a better conversationalist, for example, while the other is, for example, rather... pompous? Who should she fancy in that case? No woman is going to say 'oh, you're far too _wicked_ to be fancyable', but she is likely to think 'I like how easy this gent is to talk to'."

"Well, she wouldn't be able to tell that at first, would she?" Tom protested.

"Then how is she supposed to know who's more 'virtuous' or 'wicked'?"

"She'd have to talk to them, of course!"

"How does she decide who to talk to first?" Tom clamped his lips shut and refused to answer when Harry paused politely. The Heads tittered. "In everything you've said, you've completely missed the factor of physical attraction, haven't you? If the woman thinks one of the men is more attractive than the other – shall we use the common vernacular and say 'hella cute'? – she shall naturally be drawn to him. And what if one of the men was appreciably younger than the woman? Do you think that would be an issue?"

But Tom had finally had enough. "SHUT UP HARRY! You're ruining me!" he screamed, and sprinted away. Harry turned to the Heads and raised his hands in a 'what did I do?' gesture. They laughed raucously in response.

He returned to his spot under the oak tree and awaited the inescapable storm. And lo and behold, there came Lily not two minutes later, looking like she was going to rip the tree right out of the earth and chomp it to mulch with her teeth.

"We're _leaving_ ," she hissed, eyes shiny with fury. Completely cooperative, he stood and followed her across the grass to the cluster of Tom, James and Sirius. Sirius looked like he didn't know what was going on, but that it would amuse him if he did; James seemed disconcerted at his wife's wrath, but angry as well; Tom clearly would have liked to make his brother into the Boy Who Didn't Live. Harry allowed a ghost of a smile to cross his lips.

Within ten seconds, they had all Apparated back to the hotel courtyard and made it up to their suite, where Lily slammed the door and turned her burning gaze on Harry, who was beginning to weigh the pros and cons of getting to leave the party early versus spending the rest of the day being yelled at.

"I have never been more ashamed of your behavior, Harry," she began softly. "Long hair. Tattoos. _Girls_. We can overlook all that. But it is completely unacceptable to publicly humiliate your brother as you have just done. Do you understand how much of our social prestige comes from Tom? His future and yours depend on him making connections now. You are significantly damaging yourself when you lash out in these childish displays of jealousy."

"You may be a hotshot Quidditch star at Hogwarts, Harry, but that does not guarantee you a successful future. You need to admit how much you're relying on Tom to forge relationships for you," James added.

Harry was too stunned to speak. Was this how they saw things? But it was so skewed! They couldn't be serious. Tom making connections to ensure Harry's future? How wrong could they be? And he wasn't jealous!

Lily had carried on without him noticing: "…forcing us to think you must be acting with purposeful malice towards us, and I just… I don't know what to do anymore Harry, I truly don't. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"Yes, actually." If they were going to be ridiculous, then he figured he was allowed to be rude. "You haven't known a thing about me since I was seven. I don't rely on Tom or either of you to do anything for me. Remember _I_ am your heir, and have the Wizengnamot seat waiting for me, not Tom, and unless you disown me, that's not going to change. It's unacceptable for you to you judge me." With that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving his stunned family behind.

Lindsey was reading outside on the grass by the lake when he found her.

"Hey. What's up?" she asked without looking up.

"I may have just permanently ruined any chance my family and I ever had of getting along. Otherwise, not much."

She put her book down. "Bummer. By the way, what we're doing right now is officially against the rules. I'm not allowed to hang out with guests anymore."

"Your grandma was that cross?"

"Yeah, she was mega-steamed. I was all like 'dude, chill out', but it's whatever. What happened to you?"

So he gave her a quick rundown of what had happened at the party, including Tom's sudden vendetta against judgmental assumptions. By the end, she was laughing at his impressions of Tom and his furious parents, and Harry's foul mood was lifting too.

"Harry! HARRY!" In an instant, it was back.

He and Lindsey craned their heads around and peered three stories up to the balcony of the Potter's suite. Tom was leaning way out over the railing.

"You have to come up now!"

"Why?" Harry shouted back.

"You just do! Mum says!" Tom disappeared back inside.

Harry groaned and climbed to his feet. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Totally," she agreed waving him away. "Go deal with whatever it is that's going on."

He felt a headache blooming behind his eyes as he climbed the stairs to the third floor. When he opened the door, he saw every suitcase and bag they'd brought spread across the floor of the sitting room, most of them in a state of half-packed-ness.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Lily stood up from dumping an armful of clothing into a bag. "We have to go home. We haven't done any planning for Tom's birthday yet."

All of Harry's anger congealed into a hard knot in the pit of his stomach. So this was how it was.

"Go get your things. We're Apparating in ten minutes."

"I have to say goodbye to Lindsey—"

"No!" Harry was startled by the venom in her voice. "No, you don't. You've spent enough time with her. Pack. Then we're leaving. You've done enough damage."

Stunned into submission, Harry did as she said. Gathering his clothes and books felt like a bitter surrender. And Tom didn't help by looking over at him and smirking every so often.

They didn't even go down to the courtyard. James went down to inform the receptionist they were checking out. When he came back, they left Ireland.

Tom Mini-Chapter:

Tom heaved a sigh of relief as the dining room of Potter Manor settled into place around them. Apparating made him nauseous.

"Sorry to have to cut the holiday short, Sirius," James was saying. "If my older son had decided to behave himself, we might have had the whole month. Are you going straight back to your London flat?"

"Yeah, I suppose. May drop by the Leaky Cauldron later."

"Alright. Don't be a stranger," James replied, ushering his friend towards the Floo fireplace.

"Usual time and place, Harry?" Sirius called.

"Yeah," his brother replied before Sirius stepped into the emerald flames. Tom was mystified. Time and place for what? He dismissed his curiosity. They were probably going to plot about how to make more trouble for their family. And speaking of trouble… if Harry was upset about having his holiday cut short, he was doing a good job of hiding it.

"I thought we came home early so that you could plan Tom's birthday party," Harry said with bitter sarcasm. "Had I only known it was my fault, I would have begun self-flagellation immediately."

Not at all sure what 'flagellation' was, Tom didn't give the sharp response he was sure the comment deserved. Instead, Harry grabbed up his bag and stalked out of the room. His father groaned and sank down onto the sofa. Tom and his mum followed suit.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then, "What are we going to do about him?" his mother asked of nobody in particular.

His father heaved a sigh in response.

Another few minutes of silence.

"I think I would be better for the Wizengamot seat than Harry," Tom said thoughtfully.

"Not now, Tom," his father said sharply.

Just then Harry came back in, only without his suitcase. He strode to the fireplace and took up a handful of Floo Powder, which he scattered on the dull grey ashes.

"Where are you going?" his mother demanded stridently, sitting up straight from her slouch.

Harry stepped into the fireplace without seeming to hear her. Only his fierce eye-contact made his next words an answer to her question: "Greengrass Manor." He spun away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> Now, is it the MOST realistic that Harry didn't know what a bicycle was? No. Did I write it this way because I thought it was funny? Yes. That's the reason for about half of everything in this chapter, honestly. Any time Harry has to be around his family for an extended time, there's tension, and I HATE writing tension, so I wanted to have a foil mixed in, and that's why we have Lindsey. (Also, I hadn't read The Kingkiller Chronicle books when I wrote this chapter, but now their relationship sort of reminds me of Kvothe and Felurian.)
> 
> Also, yes, Lily and James are probably a little over the top about him and Lindsey. But Harry is only 13 here, and as far as they know, he's doing everything in his power to distance himself from the family and undermine them, so let's be a little forgiving if they overreact.
> 
> Chapter 8, "Disgusting", goes up next Sunday!
> 
> Half credit for this story goes to my friend fire1: we developed and outlined this idea together and there's no way it would exist without her. Go check her page out!
> 
> All characters are owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros, etc.  
> E.I. signing out
> 
> P.S. Thank you to the kind reviewer who pointed out to me that Seamus was the Dubliner, not Dean. That was silly of me. -_-


	8. Disgusting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we will be caught up to FF.net soon.   
> happy reading everyone.   
> like always I will leave Excited-Insomniac AN at the end of the chapter.

_Disgusting_

Harry's mood was poisonous as he left Potter Manor in favour of the Greengrass'. So he'd made Tom look stupid. So what? Tom _was_ stupid! His whole damned family was stupid and he was damned sick of the lot of them!

The Greengrass' secondary sitting room settled into place before him, and he stepped clear of the mantle. The room was empty, which was unusual. Delf's parents tended to spend a lot of time there. Perhaps no one was home? That would be typical.

"Hello?" he called, moving further into the room. "Delf? Mrs Greengrass? Mr Greengrass? Hello?"

There was a sound from the kitchen across the hall: feet pounding down the stairs. He stepped closer to the door, only to have it burst open and nearly knock him flat.

"HARRY!" Delf cried and threw her arms tight around his neck. Roderick followed her in at a somewhat more sedate pace. He was smiling, but it was the sort of smile Harry knew meant he was covering being upset about something.

"What are you doing home?" Delf was saying. "I thought you were supposed to stay in Ireland for another week."

"I was. It's a bit of a long story. Roderick, aren't you grounded?"

"Yeah, but I had Delf write Dad a letter 'from Jerome Leroy' saying lessons started early this year. So I get to spend all day here."

"And that means I get to avoid doing things with Marie and David and Aunt Cecilia," Delf added smugly. "They're all out right now. Roderick arrived in time to save me."

"Let's go back up to the library," Roderick suggested, leading the way across the hall to the kitchen and the stairs. Delf looped her arm through Harry's and together they followed their friend.

They spent nearly three hours in the library discussing their holidays. Roderick told Harry about his home being searched by Ministry officials for Dark artifacts. Delf told Harry some of the more outrageous stories of the antics of Marie and David, with occasional input from Roderick, who had heard most of them already. Roderick had no amusing anecdotes to share, other than his dad's predictable overreaction to the news that there were Muggle-borns on the Malfoy family tree.

"And I only found one!" Roderick declaimed dramatically. "She was my great-great-great uncle's first wife, and they didn't even have children. She got dragon pox on the honeymoon. It was the very next entry. 'Hyperion Malfoy, married to Persephone Eggleston, April 9. Persephone Malfoy, dead of dragon pox, May 12'." He put on a posh, stuffy voice as he quoted the record.

Delf winced at the inopportune timing.

"As long as we're on the topic of stupid familial assumptions, I have a good one," Harry put in. The others looked at him with wary interest. "Just this morning, we were at Amelia Bones' birthday party…" It took about ten minutes to explain the situation and his parents' ensuing reaction. By the end of the story (leaving out some of the more painful details), Delf was tight-lipped with fury, and Roderick was beginning to grin more like his usual self again.

"They actually said that?" he asked. "That you're relying on Tom to make connections for you? That's barmy. It's more like you're saving him from spending half his time in detention."

"I know," Harry agreed, flopping back in his chair. "It's mental, and I can't disagree because they'll just think I'm being 'rebellious' again. According to Mum, having long hair qualifies as 'rebellious'. According to Dad, snogging Lindsey qualifies as 'rebellious'. Next, not wearing my glasses is going to be 'rebellious'. It's ridiculous."

"You snogged Lindsey?" Delf asked quietly.

Harry saw Roderick glance at her sharply. "So what?" Harry said, allowing the impatience he felt for his parents to color his tone.

"So they cut your holiday short just because you showed up Tom?" Roderick asked oddly loudly.

"Yeah. I think the thing Tom was most miffed about was that I enjoyed myself so obviously. It was really fun to shoot down his stupid ideals. 'Wicked' and 'virtuous' indeed…" he scoffed.

Someone coughed behind them. Their heads turned as one, and Harry saw Delf's 17-year-old cousin, Marie, leaning against a nearby bookcase. The two girls looked deceptively similar at first glance: they were the same height, and had the same color hair and skin. But beyond that the resemblance ended. Marie was mean-eyed and had thin, stringy hair, and her lip curled in a habitual simpering smirk.

"Only two little boyfriends, Daphne?" she sneered.

"Still single, Marie?" Delf shot back without missing a beat.

Marie's face turned a molted red. "Adam _is_ my boyfriend!"

Delf shrugged. "Did you want something?" she asked, having smoothly gained the upper hand.

Marie's eyes narrowed. "Yes: Aunt Tiphanie says it's nearly time for supper and your friends have to leave."

Roderick sighed unhappily at the news. Harry stood reluctantly. Being with his friends, even if they talked about his family, was a complete relief, and each time he went to Greengrass Manor it made him less willing to return home.

They trooped out of the library, Roderick and Harry and Delf, with Marie bringing up the rear: down the stairs into the kitchen, where Mrs Greengrass stood waving her wand over several bubbling pots and Astoria and Dwight skinned potatoes into the bin.

Mrs Greengrass glanced up as they descended into the kitchen. "Hello, Roderick. Harry, I didn't know you were here. Did Marie tell you you're invited for supper?"

"What!" Delf cried.

To his credit, Roderick kept his cool. "No. Quite the opposite in fact, but we'd be delighted to stay."

"Yes," Harry agreed eagerly. He made a mental note to have the twins make Marie's last year at Hogwarts as miserable as possible.

"Good then. Please go set a place for Harry, Daphne."

Dinner was a quiet but enjoyable affair. Harry had never met Delf's Aunt Cecilia or David or Marie before (both of the latter were in Slytherin and several years above him), but the impression Marie made in the library seemed to speak for all. David was self-important and talkative, and Cecilia Snyder, Mrs Greengrass' sister, was passively disapproving of everything to do with the Greengrass household. Harry, Delf and Roderick passed the time imagining petty revenges on Marie, and putting about half of them into effect.

Harry glowed with warm satisfaction as the meal came to an end. Delf was excused from dishes duty to say goodbye to him and Roderick in the secondary sitting room.

"I'm so glad I don't have cousins like that," Roderick said fervently. "My Mum and Aunt Andromeda may not get on, but at least Tonks is nice."

"Tonks?" Delf repeated quizzically.

"Well, Nymphadora, but she goes by Tonks," Roderick explained.

"She's the Metamorphmagus, isn't she?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. Bit of a scandal since we haven't had one in our family in more than ten generations, so people questioned her parentage. They didn't believe a Muggle-born could produce such a magically gifted child." This with an ironic roll of the eyes.

"Are they still here?" Marie, apparently not wanting to let go of her wounded ego but unable to come up with a way to avenge it, stuck to useless haranguing. She stood in the doorway with her fists on her hips.

"Yes: we're discussing what you could do to get a date," Delf replied smoothly.

"I HAVE A BLOODY BOYFRIEND!" Marie screamed, and slammed the door shut.

Delf smirked. "She's too easy."

She brought her attention back in after a moment, and Roderick took his reluctant leave, saying his mum would wonder where he was. As he always did, Harry shuddered as the Floo-greened flames leapt up around his friend and whisked him away.

"I'll see you soon, right?" Delf asked. "Because you're home early?"

"Yeah, of course," he agreed. "We're going to start with Master Jerome soon, and we can show him my dad's old notes."

A smile lit her face. "That's right! I had nearly forgotten that! Bring them next time you come here, even if it's not time for lessons yet, okay?"

"Okay. See you later, Delf," he said, smiling.

She gave him a hug. "Bye, Harry." He stepped into the fireplace and asked for Potter Manor.

A week passed more or less quietly. Harry spent much of his time at the Greengrass', spending time with Delf and Roderick. He gave them their gifts from Ireland: a wizard chess set for Delf with green pieces instead of white that screamed at each other in a thick Irish brogues as they attacked one another; a Muggle shirt for Roderick he'd gotten at a gag vendor's cart that said "I clover Ireland" with a little four-leaf clover, and a small jade charm for Delf's bracelet in the shape of a four-leaf clover, as well as the earrings Lindsey had helped him buy.

But soon enough, it was July 28th, the day long famed for being the birth date of The Boy Who Lived. Harry was suitably thrilled.

Tom's birthday party went more or less as it usually did: there were many important Ministry figures, including Fudge himself, along with various Department Heads and political hangers-on, and very few people Tom actually wanted to see. Given this, there were even fewer people Harry wanted to see.

A large banner decorated the wall above the Floo fireplace in the dining hall, declaiming in foot-high gold letters, _"WELCOME TO TOM'S 12TH BIRTHDAY PARTY!"_

Harry leaned against the doorframe between the dining room and kitchen, watching the high-up political mucky-mucks sip punch and roam around vacantly. He nodded politely to whoever looked at him (including a slight grin for the few who recognized him from Amelia Bone's party the previous week), but soon found himself bored and slightly nauseated by Tom's determined and inexpert smarm. He probably considered it 'repairing the damage' Harry had done in Ireland. Lily and Dumbledore chatted by a window. James held court with Sirius and Remus. In short, too little drama to be worth watching yet. He retreated back into the kitchen to help Tipsy with the final cake decorations.

The thing was ostentatious and huge, as usual. Nearly a dozen empty frosting applicators lay strewn across the table, and it was plain to see where their contents had gone: there were easily two hundred tiny yellow rosettes lining the perimeter, along with the words "Happy Birthday Thomas Evans Potter". The frosting itself was deep red, and it was easy to see where the colour scheme had come from: Gryffindor pride ran deep, it would seem, even in a first-year. And as usual, the other end of the table was buried under a mountain of gifts. Even from looking at the shapes of them, Harry could see that Tom would be disappointed in most of the haul. The square corners and tell-tale rectangles bespoke of many books destined to be ignored. Harry's own gift was buried in a stack of these packages. It was a specialty Zonko's prank journal, with the privacy charm removed, at Harry's request.

He turned back to the cake and the house-elf. "It looks amazing, Tipsy," he complimented the tiny frazzled chef.

She beamed a smile up at him. "Thank you, Master Harry! Tipsy is glad you likes it. Do you think Tipsy will be able to make one for Master Harry this year?"

Harry's smile hid more pain than he would ever admit as he said gently, "Maybe, Tipsy. I'd certainly like that."

"Harry." He turned around and saw his dad standing in the doorway. "Come here for a second."

"Be right back, Tipsy," he said as he followed James out into the crowded dining hall. They went out into the entryway past the open front doors, and into James' office, which occupied the north-west corner of the ground floor.

It was a well-organized room, sunny. A good work space. Harry didn't spend much time there, needless to say, and he was usually in trouble whenever he was invited in. He wondered what he'd done this time.

The door snicked to.

"So you probably know why you're here," James began, copying every other parent who has ever had to open an awkward conversation with their child.

"I have a few theories," Harry answered without quite agreeing, because he really didn't know.

"Your mother wanted to have you stay in your room for the party today," James continued. "But she agreed to let you participate only so long as you behaved yourself. We are not going to put up with a repeat of last week in Ireland, do you understand?" Ah. This was a preemptive strike then.

"You mean me making Tom look like an idiot? I've learned that he doesn't actually need my help there."

"Harry," James said sternly.

"Dad," Harry said back, mimicking his tone exactly.

"Harry!"

"Fine!" He threw his hands in the air. "What do you want? I won't say a single word to Tom, alright? I'll leave him completely alone, all day, provided he returns the favour. Good enough?"

James released a long-suffering sigh. "It'll do."

"Good. I'm glad we had this little chat." Harry stole his dad's line with sarcastic politeness, and left his office. He reentered the dining room with a swagger and a strut, as if James had just told him he'd won the lottery, and Tom's confused and angry expression was wonderful to behold.

"Ah! James, there you are!" Mr Ludo Bagman came strolling out of the crowd to accost Harry and his father, who had followed him in to the dining room. "Wanted a word. And young Harry, isn't it? Excellent lad, heard plenty of good things about your boy here. Latest gossip since Amelia's party last week. I tell you boy, as soon as you're of age, you write me and I'll find you a spot in the office, yeah?"

Harry decided his dad's dumbstruck expression definitely topped Tom's, and he assured Mr Bagman that he most certainly would before excusing himself.

The Weasleys had arrived en mass in his absence, and he eagerly went to greet the twins.

"Harry!" George cried, clapping him on the shoulder.

"How are ya, mate?" Fred asked, clapping him on the other shoulder.

"Heard you had a bit of," George began.

"…an exciting holiday, yeah?" Fred continued.

"However, we are sure that the third-party rubbish _we_ got," George said, rolling his eyes at Tom and Ron across the room.

"…pales in comparison to the truth," Fred assured him.

"And it goes without saying that we want to hear all the juicy details," George added, grinning.

"Thanks for letting me get a word in," Harry replied dryly.

"Of course," Fred exclaimed, smacking his forehead. "How rude of us!"

George took Harry's right hand in both of his and bowed low over it. "Harry, dear old bloke, how does the day find you?"

"Fairly well, thanks," he replied, grinning.

"So, anyone interesting planning to show up?" Fred asked, surveying the crowded room. "Roderick, maybe?"

Harry burst out laughing. "As if! Could you really see the Malfoys being invited here? Ha-ha!" He wiped a couple tears from his eyes. "But seriously: Cedric's due in sometime. Other than that, probably not."

"Is he going to be around for your birthday this year?" George asked. "He was visiting his aunt or some such nonsense last time, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, and she turned the cat into a pillow and it coughed cotton balls all week; I remember that story," Harry concurred. "I think he will. Why didn't you two come last year, anyway?"

"Mum didn't want us gallivanting off about Muggle London," Fred responded mournfully.

"You'd think she doesn't trust us or something," George added in the same dour tone.

"Actually, she's not sure she trusts the Greengrasses," Fred corrected his twin sheepishly.

"You should tell her—" Harry began heatedly, only to be cut off by a storm of hurried agreement.

"We have told her," Fred protested.

"'Mum', we said," George began.

"'The Greengrasses are neutral, not dark,' we said," Fred continued.

"We even said 'Daphne is Harry's future wife, so of course we're safe there'," George finished.

"Delf isn't—" Harry began, distracted from his impassioned defense of the Greengrass' moral character.

"We know, we know," the twins chorused, waving him silent.

"Fred, George! Harry!" The Diggorys had arrived. Harry and the twins grinned as Cedric came towards them, significantly taller than he had been at the end of the year, but just as friendly and outgoing.

"Hello, chaps," he said cheerfully.

"Cedric, our hearts flutter at your approach," the twins intoned in perfect unison.

"Alas, our love is not to be, for my heart beats solely for another," Cedric replied, sarcastic melodrama dripping off his voice.

"Harry, you cad!" Fred exclaimed, and fell upon his twin's shoulder, apparently weeping. George patted his back sympathetically. Harry and Cedric grinned.

The tinkling of a knife against a glass interrupted their fun, and they turned towards the source of the noise: James stood across the room by the door to the kitchen, holding the musical utensils aloft so the sound would carry. The dining room stilled after a moment, and Harry sighed at what he knew was coming.

James cleared his throat. "I'd like to thank everyone for being here today," he began. Harry rolled his eyes, and the twins and Cedric chortled. "It means so much to me and my family that you are celebrating this special day with us." Harry mimed gagging and his friends spluttered. "So, without further ado, allow me to present the man of the hour." There was a smattering of applause as Tom joined the lanky man in front of the crowd. Harry, at the back of it, put his hands around his throat and pretended to choke, and the other three boys shook with repressed mirth. Tom, though certainly self-centered and used to public speaking, was still quite a bit shorter than many of the people he was talking to, so most of what he said didn't make it to his brother at the back. Not that Harry particularly minded. He had had enough of Tom's unjustified pride in Ireland. He didn't need such a concentrated dose now.

"And now, the cake!" James declared.

"The moment we've all been waiting for," Harry added, a little more loudly than was strictly necessary. Several people nearby glanced at him and smiled.

James waved his wand, and the curtains around the room rustled and swung shut over the cheery daylight till the large dining room was a twilit cavern. Harry recognized his mother's voice as she began to sing "Happy birthday," and by the end of the first line, the whole room had joined in. Harry thought it sounded a little like a dirge. Then the cake came hovering out of the kitchen, its dozen candles sparking merrily. It was an impressive show, Harry had to admit.

"Make a wish," Lily said warmly to Tom as the cake settled on the dining table. The boy paused dramatically before blowing the candles out in one, two, three, four breaths.

"Four kids," Fred declared.

"I thought it was how many times he'd be married," Cedric said.

"It's kids," George said confidently. Cedric held his hands up in a sarcastic 'well, if you say so' gesture, and Harry laughed.

The next half hour passed in a muddle of people-watching and cake eating. And then, of course, it was time for gifts.

"Why does everyone assume Tom wants books?" Harry wondered aloud as tissue paper came tearing off the twentieth such present. "Being The Boy Who Lived doesn't make him particularly studious."

"Maybe people think encouraging him to learn will help him live up to their expectations?" Cedric suggested, with somewhat unprecedented even-handedness.

"That's too sad for us to make fun of," George complained.

"Sorry," Cedric apologized.

In the end, the dosh tallied to about fifty books with titles ranging from _Intermediate Defense Theory_ to _Unusual Highland Herbs_ to _Dress Robes Through the Ages_ ; a Canaries team jersey from Ron; a book on rare jinxes from Hermione (of course); a subscription to The International Quidditch Magazine from Sirius and Remus; delicious-looking homemade sweets from the Weasleys; a gigantic pile of sweets and gift cards from various fans (which Lily had given a thorough vetting before allowing near her son); and from his parents, a swanky dragonhide coat suspiciously similar to Harry's own, a Foe Glass, and a Nimbus 2001, Tom's very first broom.

While most people were ogling the Nimbus, Harry, Cedric and the twins snuck up to the library, toting armfuls of candy and books. Tom had too much candy to eat in a month of leap years, and he didn't care about the books anyway.

"Hello, everyone," he greeted the portraits cheerfully, waking several from peaceful dozes.

"Harry, good morning," Edith replied. "Are these your friends?"

"A more likely looking set of lads I've never laid eyes on," Gregory stated jovially.

"Gregory, your false magnanimity makes me sick," Melody declared.

"Please everyone, let's do get along," Abram begged.

"Everyone, this is Cedric Diggory and Fred and George Weasley," Harry said. "You lot, this is Aldous, Gregory, Melody, Edith, and Abram Potter." He nodded his head over a large stack of books at each of the portraits as he named them.

"Charmed," said Melody uncertainly.

"The pleasure is ours," Fred and George said together, bowing low.

"Gregory, Edith… Aldous…" Cedric floundered, trying to greet each of them individually.

"Aldous, Gregory, Melody, Edith, Abram," Harry rattled off, dumping his armload of books on the table. "Anyway, I've got something to show you all."

The twins looked up with interest. "Is this," said George

"The sort of thing you shouldn't show us?" Fred finished.

"Absolutely," Harry replied, grinning. "Allow me to present…" he called back, strolling along the rows of shelves till he got to the one third away from the far wall. There, he knelt and extracted a set of ratty old school notebooks, most of which had 'Herbology Notes' scrawled on the front. "…the original notes for the Marauder's Map itself," he finished, slapping them down on the table in front of a bemused Cedric and a set of wonderstruck twins.

"Messieurs Moony…." Fred breathed reverently, hesitating before running his fingers over the top cover.

"Wormtail…" George added.

"The rat bastard," Harry annotated.

"Padfoot…"

"AND Prongs…."

"George, hold me please. I fear I may faint."

"You may land atop my own unconscious self, but that is all I will promise," his twin replied.

"Would someone care to please explain all this to me?" Cedric requested. "I know the twins worship 'the Marauders', but… who are they, exactly?"

"My dad," said Harry.

"And Professor Black from our first year," Fred added.

"And Mr. Lupin," George said.

"And Peter Pettigrew," Harry finished grimly. "The man who betrayed my family to the Dark Lord and got my grandmother killed."

"A bit grim for the moment, I think," George winced.

Harry grimaced. "Sorry."

"And where did their nicknames come from?" Cedric inquired, puzzled.

"They were perfectly arbitrary, as far as I know," Harry lied blithely.

"How much time did they have to spare?" Fred interrupted incredulously. He had flipped the top book open and was poring over the first few pages of meticulous notes and neat diagrams of intricate sections of the Hogwarts castle.

"Yeah," Cedric agreed, looking over his friend's shoulder. "Did they have to walk around mapping the whole school?"

"Not fair," George complained. "We're in Gryffindor, and we don't have that much time."

"I think you have the time," Harry corrected. "What you don't have is the patience."

"Good point," Cedric chuckled. The twins pretended to be offended.

The next time they looked up, nearly half an hour had passed, and it was because they were interrupted by someone coming into the library behind them: Hermione. She stopped short when she saw them, brown eyes wide.

"Leave it to you to find the library in a house this size," Fred said with a mixture of exasperation and reluctant admiration.

"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I just wanted… that is, if you're busy… I just wanted…."

"Don't worry," Harry said, waving her in as he pointedly closed the notebook cover over the diagram he had been explaining to Cedric. The others followed suit. Hermione cast a suspicious glance over them. Harry concentrated on looking angelic.

"What's going on?" she asked, stepping closer to the table.

"Nothing," Fred and George said together, guaranteeing she would know something was going on.

"What are those notebooks?" she asked, craning her head to look at the titles. "Herbology? You're studying herbology over summer holiday?" Oh, was she skeptical.

"Don't be daft," Fred said primly.

"These are Cedric's," George explained.

"Yeah," Cedric corroborated, though he clearly didn't know where the twins were going.

"We borrowed his third year notes so that we wouldn't have to study for the last two terms," Fred said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And this is the first time we've seen him since term got out," George added.

"So now we're returning them."

"And here you are, mate," George said, gathering up a stack of them and plopping it in Cedric's arms.

"You can put them in my room till you leave," Harry said quickly. "It's on the other side of the portraits." He nodded his head towards his dozing ancestors. Cedric nodded a little dazedly and left the library. Hermione had watched the twin's back and forth with rapidly narrowing eyes, and she now turned these on Harry.

"Don't you think you should be downstairs?" she asked him.

"No. Why?" he asked, puzzled.

"Well, it's your brother's birthday… And I think I heard some people from the Ministry talking about you."

Harry laughed. "Trust me, the nicest thing I've done to Tom all day is leave him alone to gossip and feel important. He doesn't want me downstairs 'ruining him'."

"Sounds like there's a story behind that particular phrase," Cedric guessed, having reentered in time to hear the last.

"You have no idea," Harry replied, only mildly bitter.

"Well, tell us then," George encouraged after a moment of quiet.

Harry quirked a grin at him. "That's right: I still haven't told you about Lindsey, have I?"

"Who?" Fred and George said in unison, clearly extremely interested.

"Hold on. I'll get the pictures," Harry replied, getting up and going around the corner to his bedroom. He had put his few pictures of Lindsey in a drawer of his desk above that which held all his letters from Delf and Roderick. He really did have to figure out a filing system for those…

"Lindsey," he said as he returned to the library. "is an American girl I met in Ireland over holiday. Her grandparents ran the hotel we stayed at, and she and I joined forces to annoy my parents."

The twins nodded. Annoying parents went hand-in-hand with eating and breathing for them. Cedric didn't look quite convinced, but made no objection. Hermione looked completely disapproving.

"And she was really attractive," Harry added, grinning as he handed over the photographs.

He only had three of Lindsey: one he had taken early in the trip where she was standing by the lake in her green swimming suit and grinning at the camera mischievously; another from a time they'd gone to town, just the two of them, and she had pulled him into a costume shop and tried on all the hats and swanky coats and scarves till the manager threw them out. In the photo, she wore an exaggeratedly tall top hat and a monocle, along with a fake moustache and a black feather boa. The third was one another guest had taken on a particularly nice day midway through the holiday. It was taken from the vantage point of the second story balcony, facing out over the lough. Harry and Lindsey had been caught having a perfectly innocent good time in the water: Lindsey tried to clamber atop his shoulders, only to be unceremoniously tossed into the lake. They were both laughing.

The twin whistled appreciatively at the first two, passing them back and forth between themselves.

"Nice tits," George noted, pointing at the swim suit one. His twin nodded appreciatively. Hermione looked appalled at their candor.

Cedric held the third one up so that it faced Harry. "This girl," he said. "agreed to spend time with you? In a more-than-friendly capacity?"

"Yeah. Said I was a good kisser and everything."

Cedric looked doubtful. "Harry… She's too pretty. I just can't believe it."

Harry folded his arms. "Say what you want. But I'll have you know that I will hold it over you when I get a girlfriend before you." Fred and George sniggered.

After the few minutes it took for Harry to establish that he was completely miffed with Cedric and would probably never speak to him again, conversation turned to more general summer holidays. The twins told him about Percy's "secret" fancy for Penelope Clearwater. Cedric spent ten minutes on a play-by-play of the Britain-Germany Quidditch match he'd seen where Britain got thoroughly thrashed. Hermione even piped up and told about camping with her parents at a place called the Forest of Dean. Harry remembered to mention the date of that year's Muggle Meet-and-Greet to her, and she agreed to meet him and Tracey at the Leaky Cauldron for late breakfast beforehand.

A noise at the door interrupted them yet again: this time it was Tom and Ron, up from the dining hall to investigate where their brothers and friend had gone. Tom looked rather cross to find one of his best friends and his elder brother sharing breathing space, but couldn't seem to find a way to express it without sounding patently stupid.

"Figures she would find the library," Ron muttered. Everyone except Tom and Hermione herself laughed good-naturedly. "Actually, Mum's looking for you two so we can go home. And Hermione, you can come to supper if you want."

The twins sighed and stood, handing the photos of Lindsey back across the table to Harry, who stood as well. "Let's walk them down, Ced," he suggested, and the Hufflepuff stood up too. Tom led the way downstairs and back into the dining hall, now noticeably depleted of its earlier crowds. Mr and Mrs Weasley stood with Ginny by the Floo fireplace, talking to Lily.

A few minutes of confusing farewells followed, but then the Weasleys and Hermione were all gone, spinning away one by one to the Burrow. Tom and Lily wandered off towards the few remaining knots of people at the far end of the hall.

"Ced, there you are!" Mr Diggory, jovial and eager as ever, bounded over and slung an arm around his son's shoulders. "Ah-ha, the pair of Seekers," he said happily, pounding Harry enthusiastically on the back. Harry coughed and smiled weakly. Amos Diggory could sometimes be a bit much.

"Hi, Dad. Where's Mum?"

"Ah, she felt one of her headaches coming on and took herself home a few hours ago. Been having a jolly time, have you?"

"Yeah, good and. Shouldn't we go see Mum?"

"A wonderful idea," Mr Diggory agreed. "Allow me to say thank you and goodbye to our hosts, and that's what we'll do." He beamed around and took off to find James or Lily.

"Do you think your mum's alright?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. She gets headaches and fainting spells a lot." The older boy shrugged. "It's just a thing about her. We're all used to it."

"Tell her I hope she feels well soon."

"Thanks, I will."

Harry nodded as Mr Diggory bounced back over. "Well, see you at the Greengrass' in a few days, yeah?"

Cedric smiled his agreement. "Definitely. See you." Harry waved them out so that Mr Diggory could Apparate them home, then headed back into the kitchen. Tipsy was perched atop a tall stool by the table, resting her cheek on her tiny fist and her elbow on the tabletop. Her tiara was even more crooked than usual, and she was snoring lightly. He smiled and tip-toed around her, collecting the massive stacks of dirty plates and cutlery and piling them by the sink.

She woke up when he was about a third of the way done when he accidentally dropped a plate against the copper sink, where it clattered and banged as if its sole purpose in the world was to wake the exhausted house elf.

"Oh, Master Harry, stop that! Tipsy will do that! That is Tipsy's job!" She hopped off her tall seat and hurried across the kitchen, waving her hands at him.

"Tipsy, for Merlin's sake, you fell asleep at the table. One night of dishes won't kill me," he said firmly, holding the plate under the faucet with one hand and preventing her from getting near the sink with the other.

"Master Harry must not do that! Tipsy must do her work, because that is how Tipsy shows Master Harry she loves him!" The direct sweetness of the statement so startled him that he dropped the plate again. Tipsy stared up at him defiantly, lower lip wobbling under the weight of restrained tears.

"Tipsy, that's…" His throat closed off. "Thank you," was all he could manage.

In the end, she did wind up washing the dishes, but Harry refused to not help, and sped about drying everything and putting it away. When they were done, she hugged him around the knees and sent him to bed with a glass of milk and instructions to have pleasant dreams. He smiled as he mounted the stairs, smiled as he wished the portraits a good night, smiled as he washed his teeth and put on his pajamas. But when he slept, he dreamt of a maze with no exit.

-o-

Three days later, Harry's 14th birthday dawned warm and misty. The sunrise stained the horizon an inviting salmon-pink colour, and his mind was full of contentment and pleasant anticipation as he meditated under the old apple orchard. He hadn't gotten his Hogwarts shopping list yet, so he and his friends would be going straight to Greengrass Manor. The sun was warm against his face and the fog was dissipating as he went back inside. It was turning into a beautiful midsummer day.

Tipsy was waiting for him in the kitchen, mixing pancake batter and humming to herself. Birthday pancakes were a well-established tradition for the two of them by then. Harry had gotten better at not ruining them in the years since his eleventh birthday, and this year they turned out exceptionally delicious, though they were still doused in honey and cream and covered in strawberries and that may have had more to do with it than anything else.

Tipsy belched daintily at the end of the meal, and giggled as she covered her mouth with a napkin. Harry grinned at her across the table.

"We're not bad at that anymore, are we Tipsy?"

"Tipsy was never bad at it, Master Harry, but you have improved considerably," the house elf replied. Harry burst out laughing.

"What's the joke?" James had come in without Harry hearing. He flicked his wand and the stove, and a flame appeared under the kettle.

"Tipsy was abusing my cooking skills," Harry replied cheerfully, in too good of a mood to let his father's arrival dampen it.

James frowned. "Tipsy, it is unbecoming for a house elf to insult a member of her master's family."

The smile melted off Tipsy's face, and she immediately jumped off the chair and began collecting the dishes she and Harry had used to make the pancakes. Harry's good mood evaporated as if it had never been.

"You're awake early," he noted, though he wanted to say 'go away and leave everyone I care about alone'.

James grunted sleepy agreement as he summoned a mug from the cupboard. "Tom asked to come to work with me today. He's very interested in Ministry business all of a sudden."

Harry repressed a snort. "I'm sure he is… You took the day off work for Tom's birthday, didn't you?"

"Yes. Why?" his dad asked, pouring hot water over the teabag. Tipsy scrubbed dishes furiously next to him at the sink.

"I would have thought you'd have catch-up work to do, is all," he lied. He still hadn't quite managed to train himself out of feeling sad whenever he realized his parents had forgotten… again.

James grunted again. "Some. Oh, don't disturb your mum today. She's having people over this afternoon, and you know how she gets."

Harry nodded. "That shouldn't be a problem. I'm going out a bit later."

"Special occasion?" James asked, carefully sipping his steaming tea.

"Not particularly," Harry replied bitterly. If his parents insisted on forgetting, he certainly wasn't going to remind them. They didn't deserve it.

"Well, have fun. Tom and I may go out for supper, so we may not be back till late." He shuffled out.

"Tipsy, stop that," Harry commanded, wondering if the power of the family heir would be enough to work. It was. The miserable house elf stopped scrubbing the pancake batter-encrusted bowl and let her soapy hands fall to her sides. "Come here, please," he said, figuring that commanding her any more would do as much good as just asking. She slowly stepped across the room and came to stand in front of him, looking dejectedly at her feet and twisting her hands in her pillowcase.

"Tipsy is… _sorry_ , Master Harry.… Tipsy _loves_ Master Harry, and she did not mean to… _insult_ Master Harry, not _ever_ …." She sniffed, and then buried her face in her hands and began to wail loudly.

Harry felt like crying too. Tipsy was the sweetest person he knew, and his father's rebuke had made him angry. But there was no reason for Tipsy to blame herself for anything, and her sorrow was like a stab in the gut.

"Tipsy, please… please stop. My dad's a git, and he was out of line. He didn't know what was going on, and I said it wrong anyway… Come one, please… It's alright. You didn't insult me, okay? It was my fault. I shouldn't have said it like that. Stop, please…."

It took a few minutes, but she did quiet down. They quietly finished cleaning the dishes, and then he helped her tote a bucket, mop, and wodge of small towels up the stairs to the library for its weekly cleaning.

As Tipsy opened the door, he heard all five of the portraits shush each other excitedly. Bemused, he followed the house elf into the room.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!"

Tipsy dropped the towels and covered her ears, but Harry broke into a giant smile.

"Fourteen years old today," Abram cried. "Congratulations!"

"It's a smashing year, absolutely smashing," Gregory commented, as if he himself had invented the age.

"That's exactly what you said last year," Melody said impatiently.

"And wasn't it smashing?" Gregory returned testily.

"Oh, go off and snog somewhere, you two," Edith snapped. Melody spluttered at her descendant. "Harry, we couldn't buy you a present or make you a cake. But we hope you'll accept our genuine best wishes for the upcoming year."

"Best wishes," Aldous grunted. "Yes."

"Thank you all," Harry said sincerely.

"Any special plans for the day?" Aldous inquired.

"I'm going to meet Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus at the Leaky Cauldron at about one, and then we're going to the Greengrass' for tea and seeing my friends."

"No Hogwarts shopping?" Edith asked.

"No: I haven't gotten my letter yet. We'll all do that later, I expect."

"What about Muggle London? That always seemed like an odd birthday activity, but to each their own…" Melody said.

Harry shook his head. "There are too many people. Cedric's in town this year, and Mrs Weasley doesn't trust Fred and George to keep the Statute of Secrecy."

"They did seem rambunctious," she agreed dubiously.

"You've no idea," Harry replied, shaking his head.

He and Tipsy spent three hours cleaning the library. Needless to say, the shelves and shelves of books were utter dust magnets, and Tipsy muttered with gloomy sympathy about the effort the Hogwarts Library must take to clean. Harry, who had never thought about it, was appalled.

Afterwards, he occupied himself reading and talking to the portraits. He enjoyed talking to Gregory about advanced Defense magic, even though the man was incredibly stuck-up. He had little hope that Gregory and Melody would ever get along, and found Abram's attempts to make it so more amusing than anything. Aldous and Edith snoozed, and Edith sleep-mumbled a bit. As far as Harry could make out, she was wondering why there was a team of unicorns in the Quidditch World Cup.

But soon enough one o' clock rolled around, and Harry stood and bid the portraits thanks and good day. He heard the clink of tea things and soft female voices from the sitting room as he came down the stairs, and stuck his head in the door. Lily and several of her friends from her Hogwarts days and her St Mungo's Poisons and Antidotes Ward sat about eating tiny cheese sandwiches and gossiping.

"Mum, I'm going out," he cut in during a lull in the conversation.

Lily looked up. "Oh, Harry… Alright. Will you be home for supper?"

"I don't know. Probably not. And Dad said he and Tom would eat out after work."

"I know: he told me. Have fun, sweetheart."

"Thanks. Nice seeing you, everyone." He nodded about, and quite suddenly became aware of Mrs Weasley seated in that chair by the window his mum had always hated. But his mum's opinion of the chair wasn't the point. The point was, Mrs Weasley knew where he was going, and why. And if she said anything, Lily would know too. He had no problem with ganging up on her with Lindsey and driving her to the peak of madness, but he did not want to humiliate her in front of all of her friends. He would never want to be that cruel. His only chance was to leave, quickly.

"Have fun at the Greengrass', Harry!" Mrs Weasley called before he could duck out. He mentally grimaced.

Lily looked puzzled. "How did you know where he was going, Molly?"

"The twins will be there too. Bye, Mum!" Hopefully, that would be the end of it.

But no, life was not so kind. As he crossed the entry hall, he heard, "Lily dear, I've really never understood why Harry always celebrates his birthday at the Greengrass' when you have such a lovely place here. And you know, they never declared a _side_ …"

Harry cringed and made a dash for the Floo fireplace before he was forced to witness the awkward scene guaranteed to follow.

"Bye, Tipsy!" he shouted, grabbing a fistful of powder. "The Leaky Cauldron!" He spun away.

He allowed himself to sigh with relief as the pub settled into place around him. The dim, dusty space was familiar as his own room, and the two people seated at a table near the back of the room was as welcome a sight as any he'd ever laid eyes on.

"Harry, over here!" Sirius called, waving. Harry waved back, forcing a smile for his two uncles as he wended his way between the tables. Though his Uncle Remus was Tom's godfather, just as Sirius was Harry's, they had always been close. Once when he'd been young, he had told Remus, "I wish you were my godfather." When the man asked what about Sirius, Harry had replied that Sirius would be his dad. Remus hadn't asked what about James.

"Hello, birthday boy," Sirius said jovially as Harry sat down across from him and Remus.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Remus added, smiling his quiet smile.

"Before I forget," Sirius said, pulling a small rectangular parcel out of his pocket. "Here is part one of your gift. Or rather, the first one, or… well, here."

"Ooh, I hope it's socks," Harry said dryly, shaking the package up and down. He could tell it was a book, but he enjoyed teasing his uncle.

"And here's part one of my gift," Remus said, holding out a small-ish oblong box.

Harry grinned. "Could it be a matching sweater?"

"Sadly no," Remus replied, but he was smiling too.

"That's right," Sirius agreed. "My gift is far superior."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Are you parents coming later then, Harry?"

His grin faded. "No," he said shortly, his fingers tightening into fists under the table. Sirius' face filled with sympathy while Remus' creased into a frown.

"Harry, I know that must be painful for you, but… they are your parents. They deserve to be included in your life, particularly special times like this," Remus reasoned.

"Then they ought to remember them," Harry said with low fury. "If you had a son, would you forget his birthday?"

"He has the right of this, Remus," Sirius said quietly. "They should do better, and it's not our place to interfere." Remus didn't look pleased, but he kept his mouth closed on the subject thereafter.

Across the room, the door swung open, and Tracey stepped in, sweeping wind-tousled hair off her forehead.

"Trace! Hey!" Harry called, welcoming her as a distraction. She smiled when she spotted them, and walked over. "Hello, Professor Black, hello Mr. Lupin. Happy birthday, Harry," she said, offering a pair of packages in red paper and many ribbons.

"No 'professors' for me anymore," Sirius begged. "I feel old enough already!"

"Sorry, sir," Tracey said, grinning. Sirius groaned.

They left for Greengrass Manor shortly afterwards, each stepping in turn through the Floo. Mr Greengrass, Delf, Astoria, Dwight, Cedric and the twins were already arranged about the secondary sitting room as Harry and his uncles and Tracey all arrived. There was a general rush and kerfuffle as everyone hurried to be the first to wish him 'happy birthday' (Sirius was smug to have been the actual first, or so he thought).

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!" the twins roared in unison, followed by enthusiastic greetings from Cedric, Delf, and the other assorted Greengrasses. Gifts were pressed upon him from every direction and there were shouts of "Cake! Cake! Cake!" There was a great deal of laughter for a time, and then things settled back down.

There was a flash of green light from the fireplace, and Roderick stepped into the room, looking like he was trying not to look glum. Harry knew his friend better than anyone, and read his moods expertly.

The twins glared at him coldly as everyone else said friendly hellos. "Malfoy," Fred said coldly.

"Weasley," Roderick sneered. Harry watched interestedly, with Delf nestled snugly next to him in the armchair. She seemed a bit bored.

"What are _you_ doing here?" George spat.

"The same thing you are, I would think," Roderick replied, summoning that signature Malfoy scorn he usually worked so hard to get away from. "Celebrating my friend's birthday."

Fred and George grinned. "Good to see you, mate." Fred spoke for them both.

"Likewise," Roderick answered, grinning as well.

Cedric laughed. "Harry Potter: bringing Weasleys and Malfoys together since 1989."

"I like to think I had more to do with that than anyone, actually," Roderick said dryly.

"Seconded," George agreed.

Just then, Mrs Greengrass came in with a tea tray. "My, the crowd has doubled in size since I left. Hello Sirius, Remus. Roderick, Tracey, nice to see you. Harry, happy birthday. Are your parents coming later?"

Delf tensed up next to him, knowing how little he liked the question. "Er, no," he replied awkwardly. "Had tea and such this morning… Tom has a, you know, thing… Thanks for asking…."

"Hmm," she said, raising a discreet eyebrow at her husband, which Harry nonetheless noticed.

But aside from that slightly uncomfortable moment, the day was perfect. Part one of Remus' gift had been a swanky dragonhide shoe for his right foot, and part two was its mate. Delf gave him the traditional scrapbook, of course, and this was immediately followed by her and Roderick jointly giving him the three-part silver frame. Roderick gave him a poster of the Bulgarian Quidditch team and the Veela cheerleaders, apologizing again for his dad docking his pocket money. Harry, who had never seen a Veela before, didn't mind one jot. The twins gave him a full set of hair dye potions for pranking Tom (or anyone else who needed it, they were careful to add, shooting glances at Roderick), and Tracey gave him a new prescription of contact lenses from her mum and a Muggle chess set from herself. Roderick and the twins puzzled over the curiosity for a time, but then there was part two of Sirius' gift, following up on a book entitled _"12 Failsafe Ways to Charm Witches"_ : a Nimbus 2001.

Harry hadn't seen Tom's one since the party four days ago. His brother had locked it in his room and not allowed anyone close to it, not that Harry had tried. Despite what Tom thought, Harry had more interesting things to pay attention to. But of course, after that, nothing would do but to start a game of pick-up Quidditch. The specific rules of pick-up Quidditch changed with every game, but it was generally played with four or five players per team: one Keeper, two Chasers, and one or two Beaters, depending. Sirius was their team's Keeper, with Harry and Tracey as the Chasers and Fred as their one Beater, facing Roderick, Cedric, Remus and George, in the corresponding positions. Delf was referee, since she refused to mount a broom just as a matter of principle.

Harry's team won, partially because the Nimbus 2001 was flat-out amazing and partially because it was his birthday and they were just having fun.

And when everyone trooped back in through the large French doors, grass-stained and laughing, there was cake and lemonade and they all sang the birthday song and then they just sat and had a natter about Hogwarts and other classmates and such things.

When it was finally time to leave, the sun was descending in the west, and they were all in high spirits. Sirius and Remus had Apparated away some time ago, begging work obligations and old bones, respectively, though Harry knew Remus was expecting a certain furry problem later on. His friends stepped into the Floo alone or in pairs, each spinning away in a swirl of green that set Harry's teeth on edge after requesting their destination. "The Diggory home." "The Burrow!" "Malfoy Manor…" "The Leaky Cauldron."

As Tracey disappeared, Harry turned to the assembled Greengrasses: Dwight looked covetously at Harry's new broom; Astoria had been staring at him all afternoon, he suddenly realized; Mr and Mrs Greengrass, so much like the parents he would have wanted; and Delf, his oldest friend, with a slightly funny look in her happy-gold eyes.

"Thank you so much," he said formally, trying to adequately express his gratitude. Really, there was no way he could pay them back for all the things they did for him, even the ones they didn't know or think about, like just being a proper family he could pretend to be a part of for a while. But he had to at least try. "Thank you for the cake, and all the food, and Delf, the scrapbook, and Dwight and Astoria, for giving up a day of your holiday…. Thank you all."

"Well, someone should—" Mrs Greengrass began, but her husband touched her arm and she fell silent.

"You're always welcome here, Harry," Mr Greengrass said evenly.

"You're handsome," Astoria blurted out. Delf's eyes made the almost-imperceptible transition from gold to orange, but her expression did not change. Dwight burst out laughing. "Story's in lo-o-ove! Story's in lo-o-ove! Hahahahahaha!"

"Dwight, stop that," Mrs Greengrass said sternly, though her lips twitched up at the edges as well.

"Thank you," he told the younger girl gravely, and she blushed scarlet. "I'll see you for Master Jerome, alright?" he said to Delf, who nodded, but wouldn't quite meet his gaze.

"Yes, of course," was all she said. And with that, Harry stepped into the Floo and spun away.

The dining hall was dim and silent as the green fire faded down to nothing. He stepped clear of the mantle, glancing around to see if anyone was about. The room was empty. He crossed out into the entryway and was starting up the stairs when his mother's voice echoed out of the sitting room and pulled him up short: "Harry? Is that you?"

He froze. "Yes…"

"Come in here, please?"

He reluctantly lay his gifts down on the carpet and went down into the sitting room. His mother was perched in that chair by the window she hated, the one Mrs Weasley had been sitting in earlier. He knew Lily had tried dozens of time to get rid of the thing, but in his youth, James had put a Permanent Sticking Charm on it to piss off his own mum, who had hated it too, and those things were damned permanent.

"I'd like a word," she said.

"Granted," Harry replied. She pursed her lips at his flippancy, but didn't reprove him.

"I'd like to wish you a happy birthday," she began, but Harry cut her off.

"No. Your wishes are outside my realm of concern. I had a lovely day already, without your even remembering. Tipsy remembered. The portraits remembered. Uncle Remus and Uncle Sirius remembered, and so did all of my friends. I don't need your empty sentiments."

Her face twisted miserably. "Harry, I'm _so sorry!_ "

"I don't care," he shot back coldly, though tears pressed hotly behind his eyes.

"Oh, sweetheart, why didn't you _remind_ us?" She began to cry.

_"Remind you?"_ he shouted, teary feeling vanishing. "That's _disgusting_!" He darted out of the sitting room and up the stairs, pausing only to collect his things before pelting off to his room and slamming and locking the door. Hedwig hooted nervously in her cage, and he took her out and carried her to the window, where she flew out into the cool evening air. He wished he could follow her. He wished he was an Animagi already. He wished he was a Greengrass instead of a Potter.

"Remind you indeed!" he scoffed, and then had to laugh so that he wouldn't start to cry.

-o-

The Muggle Meet-and-Greet was two days later. He met Tracey and Hermione at the prearranged time at the Leaky Cauldron for tea. Harry made the introductions, dubbing Hermione "Tom's smart friend" and Tracey "my nice Slytherin friend". Hermione looked apprehensive about being friendly with someone from her rival House, but got over it soon enough. Tracey was friendly and engaging and asked politely after how Hermione's first year had gone.

"Actually, Tracey, I was hoping to ask you about something. I forgot at my birthday. Did you know American wizards use the Muggle post?"

"Really?" Hermione sounded interested. _Why_ hadn't the Hat put her in Ravenclaw?

"I didn't," Tracey replied mildly. "But I doubt that's the point you were trying to make."

"Well, no," Harry said. "I met this girl in Ireland who lives in America and I didn't get to say goodbye to her…"

"And you want me to be your contact in the Muggle post so that you can stay in contact," Tracey finished the thought for him.

"Pretty much," Harry agreed sheepishly.

"I don't suppose I'll get to read anything to satisfy my curiosity?" she asked hopefully. She pouted when Harry shook his head, but agreed to the plan in general.

Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick arrived shortly after their conversation, and were again quick to foist off responsibility onto the students when the new batch of Muggle-borns arrive with their parents.

Harry, Tracey and Hermione introduced themselves all over again, but Harry completely missed the new students' names because he had to take Hermione aside and explain to her that telling a crowd of nervous Muggle parents that their child would shortly be running around a school where Harry had to 'save the day' from wicked professors was typically not a smart thing to do. But afterwards, Harry gave his Gringotts spiel again, and Tracey explained about Quidditch this time, and Hermione went on for nearly twenty minutes about what books they'd need to be 'properly prepared' when they got to Flourish and Blott's until Professor McGonagall intervened. Harry noticed one boy taking photos of nearly everything he saw, and when the professors had made their closing statements and most of the parents and students wandered off, he came up and re-introduced (or just plain introduced) himself as Colin Creevey.

"I can't wait to get these pictures developed!" he said eagerly. He was a small boy, with sandy hair and an open, puppy-dog-ish expression.

"Fifteen points and a Galleon, Potter!" Professor McGonagall called as she and her diminutive colleague moved off towards the wall portal. He waved back, answering the boy as he did so.

"Has anyone told you that if you get them developed in a special potion, the images will move?" Tracey had explained all about static Muggle photos to him in second year, when being friends with a Muggle-born was novel and new. He, Roderick and Delf had been stumped over the use of a picture that didn't move. She had explained that they had separate things called 'movies' that moved, and also told stories. That also made no sense, until she'd taken them all to see one.

The boy's eyes widened. _"Really?"_

Harry nodded. "Really."

Over the next half hour, Colin plied him for information, asking exhaustive questions and demanding detailed explanations about things Harry rarely ever thought about. Who had invented Quidditch? Was there magic that could make Muggles magical? Not even temporarily? Were magic pets different? Would they learn the goblin's language? Why did they use wands? Would something else work? Like a book? Or a shoe? Or a camera? Were all wizards good?

At this, Harry had to laugh. "Hardly," he replied. "Wizards are just people with magic, and the magic is much less important than the person."

Mr and Mrs Creevey stayed back with Tracey, who tended to be better with parents than he was (Hermione had plans with her parents and had to leave).

Harry was exhausted but satisfied by the time Mrs Creevey insisted it was time to go, and dragged her reluctant son away.

"What House do you think he's bound for?" Tracey asked as they waved the trio off down the Alley.

"Gryffindor," Harry hypothesized. "He wasn't nervous about anything, like most of them were. He reminds me of Tom, only less stuck up."

"I can't tell if that's high praise for their differences or bitter condemnation for their similarities," Tracey laughed.

"A bit of both, I guess," Harry replied dryly. "Do you have plans for the rest of the day?"

"My mum and I are going out for early supper and seeing a friend of hers from Uni."

"Uni?"

"'University'. Like a bunch of Muggles getting their Masteries all together."

"Hm. Well, tell her hello from me. I'll walk you as far as the Leaky Cauldron."

"Thanks." They chatted about the new students and their classes and friends and Quidditch and such small topics as they walked down the Alley, and bid each other cheerful adieus as Harry stepped into the Floo and spun away.

Once back at Potter Manor, he immediately stepped into the kitchen for some food. Giving tours was hungry work. Unfortunately, his parents and Tom were already gathered around the table, eating curry. Lily and James looked up guiltily as he came in.

"Harry! We didn't know if you'd be home, so… Er, how are you, sweetheart?" They were being careful with him again. It happened every time they forgot something, and then remembered that they'd forgotten. His neglected fourteenth birthday was still fresh in their minds.

"Fine," he said, lying. "Hermione says hello, Tom." She hadn't.

Tom looked up, startled, and then upset about being startled. "Were you doing that stupid Muggle thing then?" he asked snidely.

"It's not stupid. Professor McGonagall says the students we've helped show around are on average much more confident and prepared and able to navigate school better. Which you would _know_ if you ever actually _listened_ to a thing Hermione says."

"Harry, don't be rude," his father cut in sharply. Apparently, their guilt-induced tolerance did not go so far as to cover him being 'rude' to Tom. "And anyway, your Hogwarts letter arrived while you were out. Your shopping list is quite straightforward. We're going to the Alley with the Weasleys the day after tomorrow."

"You opened my letter?" Harry demanded angrily, snatching the crumpled parchment up off the table now that he knew what it was. _'Harry Potter, south-west bedroom, Potter Manor, Godric's Hollow, England'_ , he read, and stuffed the letter back into the envelope.

"I'm not hungry," he snapped, and stalked out. They didn't call him back, and he was savagely glad. He went upstairs and wrote letters to Delf and Roderick, trying not to sound as furious as he felt as he asked them if they could save him from shopping with his family.

Their answers the next day were not what had wanted to hear: since it was Astoria's first year, the Greengrasses were making a proper outing of it, and Delf had been roped in. Roderick had plans to go with his family as well, at the insistence of his mother. So Harry resigned himself to his fate, and hoped he'd have a chance to sneak off with the twins at some point. Thank goodness Master Jerome would be back soon and they could start their lessons.

Naturally, the Potters were running late the morning they were due to meet the Weasleys at the head of the Alley. Harry wasn't worried, since he knew the other family suffered from chronic disorganization and lateness as well, but he was frustrated with his own family's inability to keep on schedule. After all, they were two sons and a daughter short of the Weasley's excuse. Harry scanned his list while he waited by the fireplace. There were a number of books written by a man called 'Lockheart', which he found odd. The name resonated in his head, and not in a good way.

But they finally managed to find Tom's left shoe where it had hidden itself in the upstairs bath drain and coax James' cloak out of the chimney, and then they each went off spinning through the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley.

Lily hurried them all up the street to the very steps of Gringotts, where the clump of Weasleys waited for them.

"Sorry, sorry!" Lily sang out as the two groups drew near each other. "We had a bit of a problem with animate clothing this morning," she explained, kissing Mrs Weasley on both cheeks. Mr Weasley and James shook hands in a particularly manly way to make up for their wives' overt affection. Ron and Tom drew together as if they had both Summoned the other, and Fred and George and Harry all sidled up next to each other as well. Percy stared about as if pretending he weren't there, and the youngest Weasley and only girl, Ginny, clung to Mrs Weasley's coat.

"So why don't we visit our vaults and meet back here in twenty minutes?" Mrs Weasley suggested. This was met with general approval, and they tramped inside. Mr Weasley immediately spotted Mr and Mrs Granger and Hermione at the counter, exchanging pound notes for Sickles and Galleons.

"But you're _Muggles!"_ Mr Weasley exclaimed delightedly as the Potters split off to ask a goblin to take them down to Harry and Tom's vaults. They each collected their money (Harry firmly told his parents that no, he didn't need help collecting the coins and they could stay in the cart and twiddle their thumbs for all he cared), and Tom spent the whole of the return ride complaining that Harry had more gold in his vault than he did, even though he didn't.

They met back up with the Weasleys plus Hermione and sans Arthur outside of Gringotts. Harry heard Hermione tell Tom that Mr Weasley had taken her parents down to the Leaky Cauldron for drinks. It was quickly decided that they would all split up for an hour before meeting back up at Flourish and Blotts to buy schoolbooks.

Harry and the twins spotted Lee Jordan and the four of them took off down the Alley, enjoying the sunshine and freedom. They popped into the apothecary to pick up the essentials, and then it was off the Gambol and Japes Wizard Joke Shop, the twin's and Lee's favorite spot in the Alley. Tom, Ron and Hermione caught them stocking up on Dr. Filibuster's Wet-Start No-Heat Fireworks. Tom gave Harry a disapproving look that told him Lily would be hearing about this, but he didn't care.

When they left Gambol and Japes, Harry paid for ice cream sundaes for all of them, and after that it was off the Flourish and Blotts for him and the twins, and Madam Malkin's for Lee, where he was meeting his dad.

Harry was slightly amazed to see an enormous crowd gathered outside, made up mostly of witches around Mrs Weasley's age. A sign hung across the second storey windows declared:

GILDEROY LOCKHEART  
will be signing copies of his autobiography  
MAGICAL ME  
today 12:30 P.M. to 4:30 P.M.

Harry and the twins fought their way inside and up some stairs to the second-storey landing on the left side, just in time to see Tom and a wizard in forget-me-not blue robes and a jauntily tilted hat shaking hands enthusiastically in front of a large camera that coughed purple smoke each time the flash went off. Judging from the number of pictures depicting that same wizard, and the fact that there was a large stack of books with his face on them on a nearby table, this was Gilderoy Lockheart.

Tom and Lockheart stopped shaking hands, and instead stood side-by-side in front of the camera, grinning identical huge toothy smiles. Harry rolled his eyes at the twins, who rolled their eyes back at him.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Lockheart said loudly, waving for quiet, which was slow to arrive. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time! When young Thomas here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography—which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge—" The crowd applauded again. "He had _no idea_ ," Lockheart continued, giving Tom a little shake. Harry saw his brother's glasses slip to the end of his nose, and grinned. "that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" Another burst of clapping followed this announcement, which Harry joined in on only by habit. He had suddenly remembered where he knew Lockheart's name from: he had seen Lily carrying a tome called _Voyages with Vampires_ around over the past few days. He had picked it up absently and read the first couple chapters, and decided it was a load of Hippogriff dung. And now this man would be teaching them Defense? This didn't bode well.

In the meantime, Tom had made his way back to his parents and the Weasleys, who were all standing near the bottom of the opposite stairs from the ones Harry and the twins were on. Lily and James smiled indulgently and patted Tom on the back, and Tom gallantly handed his set of Lockheart's books to Ginny, who blushed scarlet and put them in her cauldron. Harry watched the adults move off a small distance, and spied a certain blond Slytherin descending the opposite stairs towards Tom and his group: Draco Malfoy.

Draco said something to Tom, and Tom glared up at him and snapped something back. But Harry didn't really care about any of that, and scanned the crowds for Roderick instead. Slightly amazed by how many blond people there were, he had no luck, and a loud, metallic _thud!_ suddenly brought his attention back to the group at the foot of the opposite stairs. It seemed Mr Weasley had thrown Ginny's cauldron at Mr Malfoy, who had arrived on the scene at some point while Harry had been looking for his older son.

_"GET HIM, DAD!"_ Fred or George yelled from behind Harry. Mrs Weasley was screaming for the two men to stop, and the crowd around them was stampeding out of the way of several toppling bookshelves. James had waded into the fray and was pulling Mr Weasley away as best he could, and Roderick (there he was!) was doing the same for his dad. The two men faced each other from a safe distance apart, breathing heavily and glaring daggers. He couldn't see very well from the distance, but he thought he could tell Mr Malfoy would be sporting an impressive black eye.

In the interval, the twins had charged down the stairs and across the room to back up their dad, and now Harry followed them through to chaos till he'd reached its heart.

He saw Mr Malfoy shake Roderick's hand off his shoulder and sneered, "Here, girl—take your book—it's the best your father can give you—" He threw two books down into Ginny's cauldron: a second-or-third-hand copy of what looked like _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ , and a small black leather one with no title. Harry could imagine that some snide comment about the Weasley's financial position was what started the whole rigmarole, but obviously couldn't say for sure. When Mr Malfoy made an imperious gesture for his sons to fall in behind him, Draco stuck his nose in the air, and Roderick sent a miserable glance at Harry.

"I tell you, Arthur, there's no sense in paying any attention to a Malfoy," James said hotly, crowning himself (in Harry's book) as King Hypocrite, since he spent a great deal of time and energy hating the Malfoys. "They're not worth listening to. You should have just ignored him. Rotten to the core, that whole family." Harry saw the back of his friend's retreating neck flush pink, and fury bubbled in his veins. "Bad blood, that's what it is," James finished triumphantly.

"Roderick Malfoy is one of my best friends in the world." Harry's voice rang out angrily. "Condemning their family for their lineage sounds disgustingly similar to being prejudiced against Muggle-borns for their birth. It's nothing to do with blood, and everything to do with upbringing."

There was a short, awkward silence. The adults glanced between themselves, and Tom and Ron rolled their eyes at each other.

"Yeah, we like Roderick," George finally agreed. Glad for late agreement rather than none, Harry glared at his father with renewed vigor. James looked distinctly uncomfortable.

After a time, Mrs Weasley cleared her throat. "Well, shall we all go outside then?"

All in all, the outing ended on a bad note.

Luckily, their lessons with Master Jerome were due to start the next day. Harry arrived early at the Greengrass', merely out of routine. As he stepped out of the grate, coughing soot, he saw Roderick standing by the side table, reading a small card. He looked up.

"They've taken Dwight to St. Mungo's," he explained, holding the card up. "He got his hands on Mr Greengrass' wand this morning and something went wrong. They're going to send Delf home in time for Master Jerome if Dwight is stable."

"Oh… okay," Harry replied, slightly uncomfortable. He hadn't seen Roderick since the fiasco at Flourish and Blotts, and he didn't know if his friend blamed him for any of the things James had said.

"Want to go upstairs then?" Roderick asked, starting for the door.

"Wait, hold on," Harry said. "About my dad… at Flourish and Blotts… what he said, it was… it wasn't right, and he's a bloody ignorant git for saying it, and it's not true at all, and—"

"He was right though," Roderick cut in, and turned around so that Harry saw the pain in his expression. "'Bad blood'. For most of us, that's bang on true."

"Not for you though," Harry retorted fiercely. "You're my best friend, and I don't put up with prejudiced bastards."

The ghost of a smile crossed his friend's face. "I know you don't. And… I heard what you said afterwards, and… thanks. That was brave and… kind. So thanks."

Harry blew air through his lips, making a dismissive 'don't think on it' sound.

"No, really, Harry. Thank you. I can't think of anyone else who would do that."

Harry looked at his friend for a moment, met his eyes and heard his sincerity. He nodded once, and together they went upstairs to await their friend and their tutor.

Delf arrived first, looking disheveled in a blouse with some buttons in the wrong holes and a stripy pajama bottoms. "How's Dwight?" Roderick asked concernedly.

The girl sighed, plopping down in the chair next to Harry and rubbing her eyes. "Fine. He's been going on recently about how no one treats him like a big boy, so this morning, he took matters into his own hands."

"He made himself bigger?" Harry asked, raising incredulous eyebrows. He didn't care what Cho said: that was impressive accidental magic.

She nodded. "He got bigger alright. And bigger, and bigger, and bigger and bigger. They had to raise the ward ceiling before they got him under control." Roderick whistled. "Yeah. They've asked Dad to stay so they can examine his wand and find out exactly what he did, since Dwight probably doesn't know 'engorgio'. And Mum wants to stay with him since that's what mums do. And Story didn't have anywhere to go, so she just stayed there with them. What a morning already!"

"Ah, but for the unquenchable passion of youth's sweeping declamations!"

They all spun about in their seats. "Master Jerome!"

Indeed, their tutor had snuck in while they were all engrossed in Delf's narrative, and now he leaned casually against a nearby bookcase, smiling with genial good humor. He was garbed, this year, in heavy fur layers: Harry was hardly an expert on animal pelts, but his trousers looked to be made of wolverine skin, and those could only be bear teeth looped on a thong around his neck.

"The North Pole!"

"The South Pole!"

"Antarctica!"

"Antarctica is the South Pole, stupid."

"No, the South Pole is a place in Antarctica, clodbrain."

_"Clod—?!"_

"He was somewhere cold, we agree!" Harry interrupted. "Were any of us right?" he asked their amused teacher.

"Not in the least, though Harry was geographically closest with the North Pole." They looked at him expectantly until he laughed. He had a chuckly, jovial laugh that they all liked immensely. "I've just finished spending several months in Alaska with an Inuit tribe," he explained, striding towards the table where they sat with rapt attention. "Inuit shamans are intriguing, you know," he continued as he sat down across from Harry. "They do not use wands as we think of them, but each man or woman constructs his own equivalent piece by piece as they move through their magical educations, both under the tutelage of an older shaman and independently as they forge ahead on their own. Really quite fascinating. Unfortunately I didn't find a single Crumple-Horned Snorkack. But I have every faith I'll find one next year."

They kept staring at him expectantly.

Finally, he said, "No, I did not construct a talisman wand myself." His students slumped disappointedly. "Unfortunately, I was too knowledgeable and fixed in my own perspective to begin anew the way a young shaman would. And I would have had far too little time to complete it. I did, however, help a young woman along the next step of her own journey."

Harry was quite enthralled over the next fifteen minutes as Master Jerome spun into being the world of ice and storms and beautiful, practical magic, and a young woman training herself to be shaman for her tribe. He was sure Master Jerome was downplaying his own role, but what he told them was that the girl (some five years older than they) was struggling to discover her totem animal. This was usually accomplished with the help of a more experienced shaman who would help anchor her mind to her body while her spirit went searching. But her tribe had no other shaman: he had died in an ice storm three months past, before he could teach her all she needed to know. But with Master Jerome's help, she was able to contact the Spirit of the Arctic Fox, her totem animal.

But by the end of it, Harry was utterly distracted by a whole other type of human/animal magic, and he could see Roderick and Delf were as well. Delf was positively squirming in her seat as their tutor finished his tale.

"Alright," he said patiently. "What has got you all in such a dither? I thought you would have been interested, at least."

"We were," Roderick hastened to reassure him. "It's just that we found these—"

"Well, Harry really, it was Harry's idea and Harry who found the notes—"

"It was my idea, if you'll recall—"

"We want to learn to be Animagi. And we don't want to tell our parents."

Their master quirked his eyebrows. "You know, I have waited a very long time to have an excuse to learn that magic." Harry grinned at his friends, who looked excited as well. "What gave you the idea?"

"My dad and his friends did it while they were at Hogwarts."

Master Jerome scoffed. "Then you should have no problem." Roderick burst out laughing, and Delf giggled at their tutor's candor. "Since we're already on the topic of the curriculum, now seems like as good a time as any to bring this up: this is the year we will begin our Occlumency training in earnest. I am going to take a moment and explain to you three how extremely serious I am about this."

Harry, Delf and Roderick nodded, slightly cowed by the man's unusual gravity.

"The study of Occlumency is the study of protecting one's own mind from another wizard's intrusion. Since I am going to be the person teaching you this, and subsequently the one experiencing your thoughts and memories, I am telling you now that I am going to practice a complete confidentiality policy, even among the four of us. You may tell each other whatever you like about what you experience, but nothing I see in any of you shall ever leave my own head.

"The nature of Legilimancy, the opposing power that gives an individual the ability to peer into another's mind, is much debated among the magical elite, but here is my humble opinion. Legilimency is frequently viewed as the aggressive mental magic, and this often stands true. But this attitude is limited and confining. The powerful Legilimist may decide what he or she sees when they enter another's mind, particularly when working against someone with no skills in Occlumency. However, the skilled Occlumense has weapons of his own: he may decide what to allow the intruder to see, and trick him or trap him. I will, after a time, move on to teaching you Legilimency, but only once you have convinced me that you have sufficient skills in Occlumency. One should never be given a weapon one does not know how to counteract.

"Ah. Here is a neat bridge between our two main subjects. Listen closely. The similarities between Animagi transformations and a Patronus charm are few, but they both typically result in some sort of animal manifestation. The Patronus Charm and Occlumency, on the other hand, have much in common. Each type of magic relies not only on knowing the correct words and wand movements, but in a third element: that of emotion. A Patronus cannot be conjured without true happiness to sustain it. Likewise, Occlumency is nigh impossible without the requisite emotional control. This is why I have been having you meditate these past several years. Meditation creates tranquility and order in the mind, and the more often these are attained, the easier they are to summon at will. Emotional control makes Occlumency possible."

Harry couldn't help but feel a bit smug at that. He was the only one of the three who even tried to meditate regularly. He knew Roderick spent a substantial part of each evening meditating while at home over holidays at least, but Delf wasn't patient enough for even that.

"Sir, what's a Patronus?" Roderick asked after a rather heavy pause.

"Of course! How inconsiderate of me. Going on about a bit of very advanced magic and assuming you all understand. A Patronus Charm is an extremely difficult, powerful spell which is used specifically to repel Dementors. Now, we are all aware of what a Dementor is."

The trio nodded eager confirmation.

"Good then. And the effect they have on humans?"

Another round of nodding.

"Very well. Now, it is mainly this which makes a Patronus so difficult: even while you feel that the world will never know joy again, or love, or laughter, you must summon your happiest of memories and use it to fuel your Charm."

Harry glanced between Delf (who was slightly pink in the face) and Roderick (who stared fiercely at the tabletop). He couldn't say for sure about either of them, but many of his happiest memories had the two of them in them.

"Can we learn to do that?" Roderick asked.

"Not if we're also going to be doing Animagi transformations," Master Jerome replied. "Along with Occlumency, that's far more than enough to keep us busy. Now, have you decided what animal you'd like to do?"

"Crows," Delf replied immediately just as Roderick piped up, "Ravens."

Harry raised his eyebrows. Last he had been aware of, Roderick was still leaning towards owls and Delf was still reluctant to do birds at all.

"Why would we do crows?" Roderick demanded tetchily. "Everyone knows the crow is just the raven's poor cousin."

"They are _not!_ Besides, if we do ravens, everyone will say we only chose that because we're in _Raven_ claw," Delf shot back.

"Our sigil is an eagle," Roderick protested.

"Well, we're not called Eagleclaw, are we?"

Harry sensed a big pointless argument brewing. Usually, he would intervene, but this one seemed interesting. And anyway, it looked like something might actually get resolved. So he just sighed and leaned back in his chair, grinning across the table at Master Jerome, who seemed to have reached the same conclusion as his student and was watching the scene with great interest.

"Ravens are smarter and bigger and stronger," Roderick insisted.

"And because of that, they stand out more," Delf retorted. "A crow is small and quick. And it doesn't _matter_ how smart they are, because we're going to be keeping our own minds, numbskull."

"A numbskull, am I? Well, what do you say to this: crows are smaller and weaker and easier targets. What if something decides we'd look like a tasty dessert?"

"Then we'll just change back into humans and scare the shirt off whatever it is," Delf said triumphantly, and then played her ace. "And _anyway_ , a group of ravens is called a 'court'. A group of crows is called a _'murder'_. Really, do we want to be a court or a murder?"

Roderick had no comeback.

"Crows then?" Master Jerome verified. His students all nodded affirmation, though Roderick looked mildly miffed. "Excellent!" he continued, clapping his hands together. "I suppose I should choose one too…. Well, a little consistency never hurt anyone. My Patronus is a chameleon, so, so will my Animagi form be. Shall we sort the month out then?"

The rest of the day was spent happily sorting out what they would learn when in August. Mr Greengrass, Mrs Greengrass, Astoria and Dwight arrived back home a little after twelve, when Harry, Delf, Roderick and Master Jerome were mucking about in the kitchen trying to make something edible for lunch. Dwight was back to normal size, though he looked extremely exhausted and went straight upstairs with his mum to go to bed. Astoria blushed red when she saw Harry and scurried out after her mother and brother. Mr Greengrass sank down in a chair and rubbed his forehead.

"So what did Dwight do?" Delf asked interestedly.

"Nothing definitive," her dad grumbled. "Just a lot of desire and will power and magic channeled from him through my wand right back into him."

"But that's fascinating!" Master Jerome exclaimed.

"That's exactly what the Head Healer said," Mr Greengrass replied wryly. Harry and Roderick chuckled. "We found it more than a little nerve-wracking. I think they had to invent a new treatment for him on the spot." Harry glanced between his friends and his tutor, watching the spread from interest to sympathy to worry. "Anyway," Mr Greengrass came out of his brown study abruptly. "How are your studies going, eh?"

"We're beginning proper Occlumency!" Delf said enthusiastically. Her father looked surprised.

"That's a bit advanced, don't you think?"

"No student I've ever taught has failed to at least grasp the basics. And these three are notably brighter than my average students. I have no doubt they will excel," Master Jerome replied easily.

"I'll leave them in your hands then." He stretched, popping his shoulders. "I could do with a bit of a kip, now that I think of it. Will you all manage without supervision?"

"Da-a-a-ad, we've managed all morning," Delf said impatiently.

"Right you are, dumpling," he replied, kissing her on the forehead and shuffling upstairs. Delf flushed bright pink, obviously humiliated by the pet name.

"'Dumpling'!" Roderick choked on his laughter. She punched him on the arm, and he yelped.

August passed swiftly. Delf had predicted correctly: studying to be Animagi was a lot like studying Ancient Runes. Harry had also predicted correctly: he picked up Occlumency much faster than Roderick or Delf.

Delf's 14th birthday was as enjoyable as ever. Harry and Roderick gave her the usual silver frame. Tracey helped Roderick buy a Muggle shirt that said "My Boyfriend Calls Me A Witch" on it. Everyone laughed except Delf. Harry gave her a charm for her bracelet in the shape of a chess queen, in honor of the best game of wizard chess anyone ever played. They had a picnic outside and piggy-back races.

And soon enough, it was again that time: time to go back to Hogwarts.

Master Jerome Mini-Chapter:

_I am in the library quietly reading Roderick's newest letter. Dwight is napping, and Story is in her room playing. Mummy calls to me. "Daphne!" She is at the top of the stairs, and the library door is open, so I can hear her well. She tells me to come downstairs because she and Daddy want me to meet someone. "Someone important," she adds. I go down to the secondary sitting room. Daddy is sitting in front of the fireplace, and across from him sits someone I don't know. He is a man with grey hair and spectacles and he wears funny clothes. Mummy introduces me as 'Daphne darling' as Daddy and the man stand up, and then she tells me the strange man is named Jerome Leroy and he is my new tutor. "And hopefully for Harry and Roderick too, if their parents agree…"_

_The scene melts and changes to something new…_

_I am outside under the trees by the wall with Story. Story fell asleep, but I am awake. I cannot stop hearing Mummy. I cannot hear her now, her window is too far, and it is closed, and we are on the other side of the house. But I can hear her in my head still, moaning and screaming. It is chilly and windy out here under the trees. It is November, and nearing dusk. I wonder if Daddy will come bring us in. He seemed very worried when he made me take Story outside before. He told us the new baby was coming, and it was late and the Healer was late too. Daddy told me it will be a brother this time…_

_The scene melts and changes to something new…._

_I am so happy. I am turning eleven, and I am kissing Harry, whom I love. I am going to marry him someday. His mouth is warm and he has chocolate cake crumbs on it. His glasses press against my nose and forehead. I keep my eyes open to watch him, even though his eyes are closed. I hear Roderick laughing and hooting in the background. I will punch him when I am done kissing Harry, whom I love. I wish I were never done kissing Harry. I am so happy._

He relaxed his grip on the spell and it dissolved to nothing. Daphne's eyes refocused on him, wide and scared.

"Better," Jerome said. "I was feeling less of the memory by the end. You must focus more on rejecting me than on hiding from me."

She nodded stiffly and returned to sit between the boys. She was angry at herself, he could see. Angry for the failure, but also afraid of what he might see, and angry at the fear. That fear would be difficult to master, he could sense.

Roderick stepped forward next, looking nervous.

"Remember," Jerome told him. "Be calm." The boy nodded uncertainly. "Legilimens!"

_It's the first day of classes in second year. We have Herbology with Slytherin this year. Harry looks about as we enter the greenhouse, and then waves and shouts "Tracey!" A girl mid-way down the trestle table looks up: she has blondish hair and blue eyes and a friendly smile. But I don't know if it's any of that that has my heart doing a funny jig in my chest. "I met Tracey over summer when…" Harry is explaining something, but I'm not really listening properly…_

_The scene melts and changes to something new…_

_I am on the Hogwarts Express for the very first time! I am so excited, I would explode if that wouldn't kill me. Me and Harry and Delf all peer out the window eagerly at the passing scenery. There is more and more greenery as we move farther from London. Delf says that the train avoids towns until it gets to Hogsmeade because it's easier to hide from Muggles that way. Harry says that that makes sense. We are wearing our Hogwarts robes for the first time ever. I wonder what color my scarf and gloves will be after we all get Sorted. "What House do you think we'll all be in?" Delf wonders, seemingly reading my mind. Harry tells her no one promised we will even be in the same House. My stomach sinks. For some reason, I hadn't thought of that. I don't want to be separate from them! "If lineage has anything to do with it, I'm bound for Gryffindor," Harry grumbled. "My mum was in Slytherin, but my dad was in Hufflepuff," Delf says. "What about you, Roderick?" "Both of my parents were in Slytherin," I say glumly. "Everyone knows that." I don't want to be in Slytherin. "I think it'd be fun in Ravenclaw," Harry said thoughtfully. "Master Jerome was in Ravenclaw when he was at Hogwarts, you know." "Yeah!" Delf agrees. Delf agrees with everything Harry says now. I think Harry is incredibly thick not to get it yet. "Ravenclaw would be nice." Except I only agree because it's a good idea, not because I'm mad for Harry. "Do you think we can request it?" Delf asks eagerly._

_The scene melts and changes to something new…_

_"What did we do wrong with Roderick?" I freeze. I am not meant to be up. I was replacing a book in the study before it was noticed to be missing the next day. I was creeping past my parent's room when my father's voice pulled me up short. "There is nothing wrong with Roderick," my mother says patiently. My heart clenches. Their tones say this is a tired old conversation. "You know what I mean, Narcissa. He isn't like us. He isn't… normal." "Well, dear, if you're looking for someone to point the finger at, that can only be yourself." "What!" "Yes. He was seven when you sent him to 'be friends' with the Potter heir. When a seven year old hears 'be friends', he goes and makes friends, he doesn't spy." "I didn't tell him to be friends. I told him to get to know the damn boy!" "Don't be pedantic, Lucius, it's not attractive." "Not attractive, am I? Well, what if I were to—" "Oh!" I leave hurriedly._

He relaxed his grip on the spell and it dissolved into nothing. Roderick was pale and his features were squinched together in a tight little knot.

"Good," Jerome said. "You were the opposite of Daphne in some ways. You began with decent emotional suppression, but when I breached your control, you panicked and fell apart. Persevere. You're only a beginner, and you're doing well."

"Yes, sir." Roderick returned to his chair next to Daphne and sat, looking supremely unhappy.

Harry was up next. He was anxious, of course. It was their first proper Occlumency lesson, and his friend's reactions weren't comforting ones.

"Focus," Jerome reminded his student, who gulped and nodded. "Legilimens!"

_I am running. It is just past dawn one a chilly mid-April morning. The old apple orchard is green and blossoming. I stare at the ground, counting heartbeats and footfalls and breaths. I am going to Delf's later. Me and her and Roderick are going to make fake wands and practice theoretical spell casting, like Master Jerome wants us to. I can't wait to be eleven. Being nine is useless. A shrill scream from near my foot interrupts my thoughts: badly shocked and trying to lift both of my feet off the ground at once, I tumble gracelessly to the ground, trying to see the cat I assumed I'd just stepped on. Instead, my eyes focus on a small green garden snake which is glaring at me balefully. "I'm sorry!" I say politely. "I didn't mean to step on you." The snake flicks its tongue dismissively. "No worries," it replies. "Shit happens." My mouth drops open._

_The scene melts and changes to something new…_

_I am so mad! Smashing the chandelier felt good, but it wasn't enough. Mama and Daddy would still be mean to me. I would hide from them and never come out again, that would make them sorry. There is a closet next to my room. I have never been in, but the door is there, and what else could it be? I slam it behind me, and sit down against it and cry. "Now, now, now, duckie, what's all this then?" I choke on a sob and peer into the shadows, searching for the source of the voice. My glasses are crooked and smudgy, but I can see the room is a lot larger than any closet. "Hello?" I say tentatively. If there are baddies in the house after Tom, I am going to tell Mama and Daddy, even though I am mad at them. The voice doesn't sound like a baddie though… "Open the window there, good lad, will you? It must be years since we've had some proper sunshine!" Confused but obedient, I feel my way across the room and pull one heavy velvet drape aside. A chorus of 'oohs' and 'aahs' echoes from rectangular shapes along the wall as bright afternoon sunlight cuts across the room. "Who are you?" I ask, curiosity overcoming fear. "Why, we're your ancestors!" says a plump, jovial man in maroon robes. "Assuming, of course," interrupts a young witch with very black hair and an odd broach on her chest, "That you're a Potter. What's your name, child?" "Harry. Potter," I reply. "Well, Harry," says a kind-looking, elderly witch. "We are Aldous—the one at the far end—Gregory," the plump man doffs his pointed hat and bows. "Melody—" the young witch waves her fingers and smiles. "I am Edith, and here on my left is Aldous." The third wizard smiles nervously and nods to me. I nod solemnly back. "We are your ancestors." "Nice to meet you," I reply. "Would you like to hear a story?" Edith asks. I nod. She smiles and opens a book. "Once upon a time, there were three brothers…"_

_The scene melts and changes to something new…_

_The dining table is quiet. Tipsy clears the remains of the roast and gets tea for Mum and Dad and milk and cookies for me and Tom. Tom has been naughty all day, but he still gets cookies. "Aren't we going to have cake?" I venture after a time. Mum looks ups absently from the crossword in the evening Prophet. "Whatever for, sweetheart?" "My birthday," I reply. "I'm seven." Dad and Tom look up, and Mum puts and hand to her mouth as if she's about to be ill…_

He relaxed his grip on the spell and it dissolved into nothing.

"You have the capacity to block me, Harry," he said. "I could feel you pushing me out there at the end. Make that intent a shield and you will do fine." The dark haired boy nodded, but wouldn't look at him. It was a shame that Occlumency lessons so often resulted in bad spirits and distrust among his students. "So, who wants to work on our Animagi forms after tea?" he asks. The question has the desired effect and the trio was noticeably perkier as they all trooped downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
> So as I mentioned once before, I'm making it so that Animagi forms are chosen rather than innate. That just makes more sense to me. But aside from that, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Lots of Potter drama again, which I personally hate writing, but also fun stuff with friends and Master Jerome. I had a really fun time writing his mini-chapter at the end there. Starting to get some interesting backstory...
> 
> All characters are owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros, etc.  
> E.I. signing out


	9. That Special Someone

Harry had never been as glad to get on the Hogwarts Express as he was that year. His family had been running incredibly late all morning, and just barely made it to King's Cross on time. He'd nearly collided with Percy on the way through the gate and only avoided a serious incident by swerving at the last second and smashing into the wall and wanking up his shoulder. Anyway, that was how they discovered the Weasleys were also running late.

He drug his trunk along the aisle, looking for Delf and Roderick and mentally cursing his family.

_"There_ you are," Delf said when he finally pulled their compartment door open and plopped down on the bench with a gusty sigh. Her eyes were the hazel of worry and concern. "What took you so long? We were afraid the train had left the platform without you."

"Merlin forbid. We were running late. Apparently Tom doesn't believe in packing till the very last possible second, and he went through his trunk about six times checking if he had various things. We were ready to Apparate when he realized he'd forgot his bleeding cauldron."

Roderick snorted. "Draco nearly forgot his wand."

Delf laughed. "That's impressive."

"That's what I said."

"Astoria was ready last week, practically. I came downstairs for breakfast this morning and she was sitting on top of her trunk in her robes ready to go."

"That was me in first year," Roderick said with slightly ironic nostalgia.

"I just wish it had been Tom this year," Harry chortled.

They all looked up, still grinning at the expense of their siblings when the compartment door slid open. Hermione stood in the gap, looking worried.

"Oh. I was hoping Tom and Ron would be with you."

"There is so much wrong with that statement, I don't even know where to start," Harry replied.

"I can't find them anywhere on the train. Do you know where they are?"

"No, and I'm right glad of it," Harry said. "If they're off pulling some stunt to impress the school, I want less than nothing to do with it."

"Couldn't you please just come look with me?" she implored. "I'm really concerned."

Harry groaned as he stood up. "Fine, fine. Once up and down the train, but then I wash my hands of them."

Hermione went left and Harry went right, poking his head back and forth into each compartment. "Hey, Dean, have you seen Tom or Ron?" he asked as he found Tom's dorm-mate near the end of his car. The startled Gryffindor shook his head, his eyes wide. "No? Alright…"

Next he found his fellow Quidditch players deep in a game of Exploding Snaps. "Chet, Chaz, long time," he said cheerfully. "Listen, have you seen my brother?"

"No, why?" asked Chet.

"What's he done?" from Chaz.

"Nothing, I hope," Harry replied.

"Want help looking for him?"

"No, thanks though. See you at school."

"Cedric, have you seen Tom?" he asked, poking his head around the door gap and nodding around at the group of fifth-year Hufflepuffs.

"Sorry mate, I haven't," he replied.

"Ok, thanks anyway. Our compartment's three cars up: drop by later."

"Will do," Cedric called as Harry continued down the aisle.

Halfway down the train, and still no sign of him! Harry was getting more and more frustrated, sticking his head in and out of compartments, interrupting strangers and friends alike, and asking the same question over and over and over. "Have you seen my brother? Have you seen my brother? Have you seen my bloody brother?" If Tom did wind up in trouble (which was a distinct possibility), he had better not get blamed. That would just be too unfair.

"Harry!"

Startled, he turned around, to see Colin Creevey waving at him enthusiastically. "Oh, hello Colin. Listen, have you seen—?" The boy looked at him curiously, waiting for him to finish the sentence. "Actually, never mind. Have a good train ride, alright?"

"Yeah! Sure! See you, Harry!" Harry waved as he made his way along the car, peering into each compartment as he came to it. Ah, there was someone who might know something… The question was: would he tell him if he knew it?

"Draco, have you done us all a favour and killed Tom?"

The young Slytherin looked completely baffled, and Harry had a bit of a fun time watching him try to regain his composure.

"Why would I waste the energy?" he finally sneered.

Was that really the best he could do? Poorly done. Well, the question had been a bit unexpected. "I've no idea," Harry replied. "But I'll take that as a 'no'. Nice to see you too."

The candy trolley caught up with him just as he reached Tracey's compartment, three quarters of an hour into his search. "I don't know where he's gotten himself to!" he complained around a Sugar Quill. "Unless he got himself locked in the loo, he might as well just not be on the train." He was talking to Tracey and her friend from Slytherin, Zula, who was a pretty girl with long dread locks and a mild South African accent.

"And there you were, thinking you'd get to stop worrying about him once school started." She shook her head. "Silly you."

"I didn't think I'd get to stop worrying about him," he retorted defensively. "I just thought he'd wait till we actually _got to school."_

"Tom makes an effort to exceed your expectations, Harry. You really ought to be impressed, not frustrated."

"I'm both!"

Tracey laughed.

"Anyway, I'm going to keep looking. See you later, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah. Good luck."

He set off down the aisle at a good clip, waving to Tracey, only _—bam!—_ his chin smacked into something hard, and the rest of his body bounced off whatever it was and sent him reeling back to land on his bum.

"Ow," said whatever he'd hit, which sounded like a girl. He raised a hand to rub his chin, and opened his eyes.

As a matter of fact, it was a girl, and he even knew her: Katie Bell, one of the Gryffindor Chasers. She had both hands clamped over her forehead and was rocking back and forth, going "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow."

"I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, scrambling to his knees. "I didn't see you there at all! Are you alright?"

"How is your chin harder than a Beater's bat?" was her response. "Hell, how did you even move that fast?"

"I'm sorry," he said again, unsure of what else he could do. She dropped her hands to her lap, revealing an angry red welt that looked like it would blossom into an impressive bruise before long. Harry rarely saw her off the Quidditch pitch, since she was a year younger than him and they had no classes together, besides being in different Houses. She was actually rather good looking, except for the big red mark on her forehead, courtesy of his chin. She had straight brown hair and brown eyes, and a small, but obviously sturdy frame.

"Really, are you alright?" he said again, helping her clamber to her feet.

"Yes, I think so," she replied. "Is… whatever part of you that hit me okay?"

He touched his chin. "I may have a dent, but yeah."

"Are you calling me hard-headed?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Well, you are. Literally."

She glared at him for a moment, but then broke into a smile. "That's what my mum always says too."

He smiled back: it seemed to be infectious.

"So do you reckon you can make it wherever you're going without injuring anyone else?" she asked.

"I think so. It takes two to make a collision that impressive, I'd say."

"It's a talent," she said, tossing her hair and pretending to be proud. "Anyway. Bye then," she said, slipping past him to continue on her way.

"Sure, bye," he answered, thought something nagged at him… _"Rule number nine: do girls favours!"_ Sirius had said in France. _"Don't take her for granted,"_ Lindsey had instructed sternly.

"Hey, wait!" he called after a moment. She turned back to face him from near the other end of the carriage. "Let me make it up to you. You're a third-year, right? Come to Hogsmeade with me. I'll show you around."

She looked slightly taken aback, then pleased. "Yeah, okay," she said. "Great!"

"Great!" he said back, grinning.

His search along the rest of the train yielded zero Tom-and-Ron-type results, but Harry didn't particularly mind. When he got back to his compartment, he found that Delf and Roderick had been joined by Fred and George, and they were engaged in lively discussion.

"Where were they then?" Fred asked as soon as Harry stepped in.

"'They'? Oh. I didn't find them."

"Then what's got you looking like the cat in the creamery?" Roderick inquired as Harry lay down on the bench opposite the three boys and put his head in Delf's lap. She immediately pulled the collar of his shirt down and started tickling his Horntail tattoo.

"I just ran into Katie Bell," he replied. "Quite literally."

Delf's fingers stilled on his skin. "So?" she said.

"Have I got a cleft in my chin now?" he asked, pointing at the feature.

Fred, George and Roderick leaned close. "Yes," they all said together.

"He has not!" Delf exclaimed. "What happened then, Harry? You apologized and went your separate ways, right?"

"At first, yeah. But then I invited her to Hogsmeade to make up for the big bruise on her forehead."

"But she didn't say yes, did she?"

"She did, as long as 'yeah, okay, great' is an agreement." Honestly, when had Delf become so pessimistic?

"But surely—" She was drowned out by a chorus of cheering and clapping and wolf-whistles from the twins. For himself, Roderick appeared slightly concerned.

Harry was grinning as the noise subsided. "So what were you lot talking about when I came in just now? Looked interesting."

"We were saying about how all of our siblings are going to marry each other," George replied.

"And what's the consensus?"

"None yet," Fred replied. "What do you think?"

"Hmm… I hope Tom and Hermione wind up together because I think she'd really mellow him out."

"None of us are related to Hermione," Roderick reminded him.

"We can pretend Cedric is," Harry said. "But according to Dad, Potter men have a thing for redheads, so I think it's going to be Tom and Ginny."

"Says the Potter man who just asked out a brunette," Roderick commented wryly.

"Shut up," Harry said cheerfully.

"What if Draco and Hermione fell for each other?" George wondered aloud.

"The moon would have to shine blue over a frozen hell populated by flying pigs," Roderick said.

"Last time that happened, Mum agreed to go out with Dad," Harry chortled.

"Ginny and Draco?" suggested Fred.

"Hermione and Ron!"

"Ron and Astoria!"

"Draco and Astoria!"

"Astoria and Tom!"

"Tom and Draco!"

Harry was laughing so hard that he accidentally rolled off the bench and landed on his wanked up shoulder.

Over the rest of the journey, their compartment was the centre of quite a deal of movement: Lee Jordan, Cedric, Tracey and Zadie, dorm mates of various Houses, and several players from both the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Quidditch teams came to check in, and the rest of the ride was generally fun and busy.

They arrived at the Hogsmeade Station in the early evening, and several hundred Hogwarts students swarmed out onto the platform. The evening was warm and starry, and Harry breathed deep with pleasure, full of gratitude that he had a place like Hogwarts to escape to.

All of a sudden, a figure loomed out of the crowd, tall, with a swirling black cloak. "Potter!" Harry had never seen Professor Snape look quite so worried before. "Where is your brother?"

"Sorry, but I've no idea. I couldn't find him on the train."

"Damn!" the beaky man exclaimed. "Why can't he be more like you?" he demanded as he turned on his heel and stalked away.

"Sorry, sir!" Harry called after him. "I wish he was!"

"What was that about?" Roderick wondered as they jostled off towards the horseless carriages.

"Whatever it is, it doesn't bode well for Tom not getting detention," Harry muttered, a little flower of vindictive pleasure blooming in his heart.

"I hesitate to be repetitive, but do you remember my cat in the creamery comment…?" Roderick asked, referring to Harry's expression, which was smug.

All the wonderful, familiar smells of Hogwarts wafted over him as they stepped into the Entry Hall: cold stone, candle wax, and old parchment. They waved to everyone they knew as they made their way down between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables: Tracey and Zula across the room with the Slytherins; Harry spotted Katie in the middle of a tight little knot of Gryffindor girls; Harry and Roderick greeted the rest of the Quidditch team: Abigail, Chet, Chaz and Roger, and Cho. Lawrence, Andrew and Will were already engaged in a heated discussion of whether or not Lawrence should ask out Beverly Moore, a girl in Delf's dorm.

Roderick pointed out that Professor McGonagall was absent from the teacher's table and wondered if she was involved in Tom and Ron's absence somehow, but Delf reminded him that she was probably collecting Astoria and the rest of the first years, not stringing Tom and Ron up by their thumbnails in the dungeons, as she should have been.

As if on cue, the main doors at the end of the hall burst open and Professor McGonagall strode in, trailing a straggly queue of new students in her wake. There was Astoria, pale but with her chin up; Ginny, a red-headed beacon of Weasley-dom; Colin Creevey tried to look at everything at once, his mouth hanging open (Harry half anticipated Peeves to throw something in it); a girl with floaty blonde hair looked around with detached interest; and several dozen others, ranging from terrified to excited.

The Sorting Hat gave its song as usual, and McGonagall called the first name. "Do you think Dumbledore sits in his office all day and talks to the Hat?" Roderick whispered from across the table.

The Hat yelled "Gryffindor!" and the crowd clapped.

Delf giggled. "What if once when he was talking to the Hat, he fell asleep and it whispered in his ear and gave him really weird dreams?"

"Or creepy ones," Harry put in.

"Or dirty ones," Roderick suggested, and they had the stuff their napkins in their faces to keep from laughing aloud and interrupting the Sorting.

Colin Creevey went to Gryffindor, as Harry had guessed; Delf correctly predicted Astoria going to Slytherin; the blond girl Harry had noted was called Luna Lovegood, and the name stuck in his head for some reason; Ginny, of course, went to Gryffindor, and the twins cheered loudly.

Afterwards, Dumbledore stood up (they all had to bury their faces in their napkins again) and gave his usual welcome address. He introduced Professor Lockheart (now in robes of aquamarine), and the new Head Boy and Girl, Patrick Kapp of Gryffindor and Ursula Williams of Slytherin.

"I liked having the Head Girl be from Ravenclaw," Roderick complained as the feast appeared before them.

"Yeah, Riley was great," Delf agreed, already stabbing meat for herself from a platter of London broil.

"You know who was great," Harry said. "Pass those potatoes please—was Aaron Yatsumoto. Head Boy our first year, Hufflepuff, remember? He was the one who caught me coming back from the Forest that time."

"You only like him because he didn't rat on you," Roderick objected.

"Well, yeah. What other reason is there to like a Head Boy or Girl? It's not our abilities, but our choices that define us," he said airily.

Delf peered at him from over the rim of her goblet. "Where did that come from?"

"Pulled it right out of my—"

A distant wooden _crunch_ was suddenly heard to echo up from the grounds, followed by several violent metallic crashes and the sound of breaking glass. The Hall was silent. Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore all got up at once and hurried out a side door.

"Three guesses what that was," Roderick muttered. "First two don't count."

"Tom and Ron's dramatic entrance," Harry replied, glancing at Gryffindor table and finding that the twins were looking back at him. Fred raised his eyebrows, and Harry rolled his eyes. George grimaced. Silent communication for agreeing 'Our brothers are blithering idiots'.

But soon after that it was time to head up to bed. Most of their year finished early and went upstairs together.

"What colour are your knickers?" the knocker asked a startled Kelly Middlebrow.

"Er… blue and pink?" she stammered.

"Wrong!" the knocker screamed. "You're not wearing any!" With that, Peeves appeared out of the grain of the wood and sailed down the hallway, shrieking dirty rhymes at the top of his non-existent lungs.

"My, but that was rude," said a voice behind their (rather shell-shocked) group. All ten of them turned to see the blond girl Harry had noticed at dinner standing behind them. Now that she was closer, he saw that she had fake radishes for earrings, and a necklace of Butterbeer bottle corks threaded on floss for a necklace. "Hello. Are you all Ravenclaws as well then?"

"Yeah," Harry answered. "We're the fourth-years. You're Luna Lovegood, right?"

"Yes. Is it true that the door asks you a riddle before you can get in the common room?"

"Yes. And if you can't get it, it won't let you in. You wouldn't have learnt anything."

Several of his class-mates spontaneously recited "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure!" Harry laughed along with his friends.

"Has it asked it yet?" the girl inquired.

"No."

She stepped through the skeptical fourth-years and addressed herself to the eagle-shaped knocker. "May I get in, please?"

"Which has more power, hate or love?"

"That's more like it," Kelly grumbled. "Knickers indeed…"

"As both are impermanent and each can become its opposite, neither has more power than the other," Luna said steadily.

"Well-reasoned," the knocker replied, and the door swung open.

The dumbfounded upperclassmen filed in after the diminutive new student.

"The girls' stairs are there. The first years have the number one on their door," Helen Cybele told her kindly.

"Thank you," Luna said, and Harry and the others watched her mount the stairs in perfect self-control.

"Luna Lovegood," Amanda Long giggled as the door closed behind the girl. "Loony Lovegood, more like."

_"Lovegood!"_ Harry exclaimed, slapping his forehead. " _That_ 's where I know the name from! That's the name of the person who edits _The Quibbler_!"

Comprehension dawned on Delf and Roderick's faces even as derision crossed some of the others.

" _The Quibbler_?" Amanda repeated. "My aunt reads that, and she's nutty."

"Our tutor's really into it, we don't read it ourselves," Roderick explained.

"If Luna's anything like whoever edits _The Quibbler_ , she's an odd duck," Harry commented thoughtfully. "But she seemed alright, don't you think?"

Will held his hand out with the palm up and mimed stamping something onto it. "Harry Potter Seal of Approval: granted."

Harry laughed. "Damn! Now I want one of those!"

-o-

Harry awoke before his dorm-mates the next day, as usual. He liked to do an extra-long meditation on the first day of classes. Diving back into academia seemed easier that way.

As such, he was late arriving to breakfast, and had barely plopped down across from Delf and Roderick before a nearly earsplitting explosion of noise echoed through the hall. People cried out inaudibly and covered their ears. Several ducked under the table. The cacophony began with _"THOMAS EVANS POTTER!"_ in what was clearly Lily's furious voice, and then another voice joined in, and only random intermittent words could be heard. Both voices said 'father' quite a lot, along with 'car', 'insane', 'flying', 'killed', and 'appalled'.

He heard Lily's voice say "—rebelling like Harry?" and then the other voice (Mrs. Weasley's, he now heard) sang out "—weren't for Mr. Potter, you father would be facing an inquiry—!" and for a minute more they perfectly canceled each other out so that nothing could be heard.

Then Lily's voice dropped out, and Mrs. Weasley finished up with "…Ginny, dear, congratulations on making it into Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud."

Harry's ears were ringing, but he had an enormous grin on his face as he finished his breakfast. So Tom really had got what was coming to him. What a marked improvement from the troll incident.

They got their class schedules that morning as well: they had all dropped Divination, given that none of them had learned the slightest thing last year. Monday began with double Transfiguration with Gryffindor and ended with Astronomy with Gryffindor again, with Care of Magical Creatures for Harry and Roderick and Potions for them all with Slytherin in between.

They had to wait till Wednesday before Lockheart's Defense Against the Dark Arts. By then, the whole school knew about how he'd loosed a cage full of pixies on his first ever class (which, Harry understood, happened to be Tom's). Every bit of their previous trepidation had been justified. Lockheart's idea of a class was to have them read the first three chapters of his book _Voyaging With Vampires_ and then give a quiz on it. Some of the questions were:

What is Gilderoy Lockheart's middle name? (Unspecified in the reading)  
What is Gilderoy Lockheart's secret ambition? (To win _Witch Weekly_ 's Most-Charming-Smile Award six times)  
What is Gilderoy Lockheart's favorite colour? (Contradicted twice)  
What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockheart's greatest accomplishment to date? (not enough information yet)  
Which of Gilderoy Lockheart's amazing qualities enabled him to commune with the vampires where others failed? (Not defined)

And about fifty other such nonsensical questions.

Harry, Roderick and Delf passed notes establishing an emergency study group in the common room later that night. Later on, they even wrote to Master Jerome requesting more appropriate reading material, and he sent them a list of four books, one per quarter, that would keep them on schedule for if they actually had a competent professor.

Before long, two weeks had passed and it was time for all the Quidditch teams who needed new players to hold tryouts. Harry was thankful that Ravenclaw wouldn't have to replace anyone, as their oldest players were only going into sixth year. But Slytherin and Gryffindor both needed new Seekers, and Hufflepuff was down a Beater and a Keeper. Abigail usually asked for at least one player to attend other teams' tryouts to get a feel for what the new opposition looked like, but this time Harry volunteered. It gave him an excuse to hang out with Katie.

It was a sunny Saturday in mid-September and Harry was walking down to the pitch, accompanied by Katie, Angelina, Alicia, the twins, and Delf, who had decided to come along for some inexplicable reason. George and Fred were flirting it up and making Angelina and Alicia laugh. Harry had his arm over Katie's shoulder and was carrying her broom for her, and Delf stalked along behind the group with her arms crossed. Harry wondered why she was coming if it put her in such a bad temper, but didn't dwell on it.

Oliver was already dressed and on the pitch when his team arrived, waving bossily at the gaggle of prospective Seekers. Harry noticed Tom with his distinctive Nimbus 2001 at the centre of the crowd. He also noticed that most of the crowd was paying more attention to the broom than to Oliver.

Harry and Delf stood aside as the Gryffindor team took the pitch. Oliver had a penchant for long team talks, Harry knew, so he wasn't surprised that their huddle lasted more than ten whole minutes. Hermione and Ron wandered towards them from the stands, obviously there to watch Tom try out, and greetings were exchanged.

But before the huddle even broke, trouble arrived in the form of the Slytherin team. Their previous Seeker, a boy named Kent White, had graduated the previous year, and they were now on the search for a new one. How that involved them coming to the Gryffindor tryouts, Harry couldn't fathom, and watched the developing scene with interest. Fred saw the approaching enemies first, and signaled to the rest of his team, who all straightened up and faced the newcomers warily.

Harry couldn't hear the exchange from his position at the far side of the pitch, but he'd wager it wasn't a friendly one. And what the hell was Draco…? Oh, that's right.

"I'd forgotten Roderick mentioned his dad bought Draco on to the team," Harry murmured to Delf as Ron and Hermione hurried across the grass to back up their House's honor. "You see? They all have Nimbus two-thousand-ones."

Some drama was unfolding between Tom and Draco, as anyone with half a brain could have anticipated. Watching carefully, Harry saw Hermione step in and address herself to the blonde Slytherin. Draco snapped something back, and Ron got involved, drawing his wand and yelling something—

An explosion of yellow light, and Ron was thrown reeling through the air, end over end, before crashing in an undignified heap only a few meters from Harry and Delf, who quickly hurried over to him.

His freckles stood out like beacons on his sheet-pale face, and it took him several seconds to get his breath back. Shouting, Tom, Hermione, the twins, and the rest of the Quidditch team rushed over just in time to see Ron turn an interesting shade of green, roll over, and narf up a slug. Several slugs, actually. As one, the crowd recoiled in disgust. Harry heard Draco and the Slytherin team laughing.

"We need to get him to Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione said shrilly.

"Nope," Harry countered, heaving the limp Ron to his feet. "Hagrid's is closer."

"Hagrid's?" Tom squawked, hurrying after Harry. "But you saw him: he's puking slugs!"

"Exactly why Hagrid's is a good idea," Harry retorted. "Just trust me here, will you?"

"Tryouts postponed!" he heard Oliver shouting as he left the pitch with Ron barely hanging on to his shoulder and Tom and Hermione treading after him like anxious shadows.

"HAGRID!" he bellowed as they rounded the last curve towards Hagrid's house. "Got a patient in need of your medical expertise!"

The door to Hagrid's house flew open. "Shit!" Harry hissed, and swiftly pushed Ron over behind a mulberry bush. It was Lockheart.

"Ha-ha!" the man exclaimed. "Thomas!" Harry glanced at Hermione, expecting to share an _'and-what-are-we-chopped-liver?'_ look, but she was looking at the professor with a slightly glazed expression and didn't notice. "Medical expertise, is it? Well, let me say, I'm just the man for the job! What can I do you for? Eh?"

"Er," said Tom.

"Medical expertise is what we call Hagrid's tea blend," Harry invented. He sounded quite off the bottle about it, he was pleased to hear. "Have you tasted it, professor? Quite something."

"Oh." Lockheart looked ridiculously put out. "I was actually just leaving. Have a pleasant afternoon, children." He swept past them up the path. Harry held his breath till he was around the bend, for fear that he'd glance back and spot Ron, who was coughing slugs all over the grass.

Hagrid had replaced Lockheart in the doorway, and looked considerably pleased to see them, even after Harry and Tom hauled Ron out of the mulberry bushes and his problem became evident.

"Bin wonderin' where you got yerself off ter," he said as he shut the door behind them. "Now what's yer trouble?"

"Ron's wand backfired and now he's retching slugs," Harry said succinctly.

"Well, better out than in, eh?" Hagrid said jovially, fetching a large copper pot from a peg in the wall and placing it conveniently under Ron's face. A slug promptly plopped into the bottom.

"So not that I'm questioning your motives or anything, but why exactly did you try to curse Draco?" Harry asked, crossing his arms and leaning on a convenient barrel.

"Ah, zat what thi' is about? No one needs a reason ter curse _him_ ," Hagrid muttered.

"Draco called me something," Hermione said. "I don't know what it meant, but it must have been really bad—"

"It was," Ron croaked from the depths of the pot.

Tom saved his friend from having to say any more: "He called her a Mudblood."

"He didn't!" Harry and Hagrid protested together.

"He did," Hermione said. "But I don't know what it meant. I could tell it was really rude, of course—"

"It's about the worst thing he could think of," Ron gasped, coming back up. "'Mudblood's a really foul name for a Muggle-born." More slugs. "Some wizards—like the Malfoys—think they're better than everyone else because they're pure-blood. Ulp—" More slugs.

"Watch your generalizations," Harry said sternly.

Tom glared at him. "He's _puking slugs_ , Harry. Not the time."

"Listen, Hermione," Harry said, ignoring his brother. "If he ever calls you that again, you must punch him right in the nose, do you hear? He'll thank you in the end." Tom scoffed. "Well, he may not, but everyone else will," Harry amended. Hermione giggled.

"It's a disgusting thing to call someone." Ron had missed the topic change. "Plus it's mad. Most wizards are half-blood by now. If we hadn't married Muggles, we'd've died out." Then he retched again and ducked back out of sight.

"Anyone with common sense knows that," Harry said patiently.

"Well, I don' blame yeh fer tryin' ter curse him, Ron," said Hagrid loudly over the thuds of more slugs hitting the basin. "Bu' maybe it was a good thing yer wand backfired. 'Spect Lucius Malfoy would've come marchin' up ter school if yeh'd cursed his son. Least yer not in trouble."

Harry agreed, though Tom and Hermione looked quite perfectly appalled. Yes, perhaps vomiting slugs was disagreeable, but it was miles better than anything Lucius Malfoy would have cooked up.

"Anyway, I've things to do, like homework," Harry injected during the following pause, and made for the door.

"Yer leavin'?" Hagrid sounded hurt. "But I jus' made a batch of treacle toffee."

Harry only managed to escape by taking some to go. As he closed the door behind himself, he heard Hermione ask, "So, what did, um, Professor Lockheart want, Hagrid?" and Hagrid gave a contemptuous snort. Harry was half-tempted to stay and bad-mouth the man, but the pull of other obligations was stronger. Like he had to find Katie and apologize for leaving her at the Quidditch tryouts, even though he obviously had a good excuse. It was just manners.

He made his way up to the pitch (quietly disposing of the lump of treacle toffee under a bush along the way), wondering where he'd be most likely to find Katie. It was too early for supper yet, but perhaps the Library? Or since the weather was nice, somewhere around the grounds?

Turns out she had solved the problem by just waiting for him at the pitch. She was still in her Quidditch gear, but she looked very pretty and innocent as she sat on a railing swinging her legs and staring off towards the mountains.

"Hey," he called.

She jerked with surprise, wobbled on the rail, and steadied herself before hopping off it anyway. "Hi," she said back, smiling as she crossed to him. "How's Ron?"

Harry grimaced. "He'll live. It won't be pleasant for the next few hours, but he'll live."

"That's good," she said as they headed back up towards the castle. "Anyway, the interesting stuff only happened once you had gone."

"Interesting stuff?" he repeated quizzically.

"Yeah," she said, smiling her infectious smile and clearly enjoying his confusion.

"Might you elaborate?" he finally asked.

"Well, since you asked," she said, laughing. "Once you had gone and everyone had pretty much cleared out, your friend Daphne came up to me and said that it'll be odd having another girl in the group when we go to Hogsmeade."

"If she's afraid of being the awkward hanger on, I wonder why she and Roderick don't just go together. I mean, they're obviously interested in each other."

"Well, hold on. Right then Oliver was coming out of the dressing room, and he said 'Well, you could go with me'."

"Oh! And what did she say?"

"She said, 'I _could_. Are you asking?'"

Harry laughed. "That sounds like her."

"And then he said 'I am. Daphne, would you go to Hogsmeade with me?'"

"Well!" Harry was moderately stunned.

"I know! You could've knocked me over with a quill! I've never heard Oliver so polite!"

"He does always seem a bit… manic."

"Putting it kindly. What's Abigail like as a Captain?"

"Fine, as far as Captains go. I think there's always a prerequisite for bossiness and micromanagement, but she's alright. Lewis Montgomery was before her, and he was a bit of a nutter, and before him was Arthur Valentine, and he didn't even want to let me on at first."

Katie laughed. "I bet he's licking the boots of whoever convinced him otherwise!"

"I know I am," Harry agreed, smiling.

Katie sighed. "I wish we could find a Seeker half as good as you. We haven't beaten Slytherin in eight years, you know? And we've been third or last for the past three years thanks to you."

"Sorry," Harry said ruefully.

"No, it's fine. It's amazing to watch you play. It's just frustrating that we can't find someone as good. Oliver was in such a temper last year when Tom didn't measure up."

Harry laughed. "Thanks. So when did tryouts get rescheduled for?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. Do you reckon Tom's broom will make him any better? Or just make up for him not being any good?"

"No," Harry replied promptly.

"I didn't think so," she said sadly.

They had made it up to the castle by then, and Harry walked her up to Gryffindor Tower so that she could change out of her Quidditch gear.

"Have you got plans for the rest of the day?" she asked as they stopped outside the Fat Lady.

"Yeah, I'm going to do some extra Defense reading. Lockheart's books are bogus. I want to actually learn something this year."

She shook her head and muttered, "Ravenclaws." Harry pretended to be offended, and then they exchanged cheerful goodbyes.

Of course, whichever genius had designed Hogwarts castle had made it impossible to move from Gryffindor Tower to Ravenclaw Tower directly without descending five storeys, and not even the myriad of secret passageways made it faster. He was trotting along the second-floor corridor on the east side when he suddenly heard something: a voice, a voice to chill the bone-marrow, a voice of breath-taking, ice-cold venom.

_"Come… come to me… let me rip you… let me tear you…"_

His head jerked around. Who? What? The hallway was deserted.

_"Bite you… crush you…kill you…"_

"Peeves!" he said loudly, and was met by no comforting cackling laughter, or rude whistles or rhymes. But the voice disappeared. Or rather, it faded. Harry stood stock-still. When the voice did not return, he shook himself and sped along the corridor, thinking how he didn't brag about Hogwarts' "All Things Creepy and Inexplicable Section" when he met the Muggle-borns each summer.

Roderick was sitting in the common room when Harry arrived back. He was staring into one of the fires quite fixedly, as if it was saying something important.

"You look preoccupied," Harry noted as he sank down next to his friend. Roderick started.

"There you are! I've been all over the castle looking for you. Have I ever got news!"

"It's probably the same thing I just heard! On three. One, two…"

"I have a date for Hogsmeade," Roderick said.

"Oliver Wood asked Delf out," Harry said at the same time.

"What?" they chorused.

"You go first," Harry demanded, massively interested.

"Alright, well. I was wandering around the castle looking for you and Delf because I'd forgotten you went to the Gryffindor tryouts, when this girl came up and practically told me we're going to Hogsmeade together."

"'Told—'? Who is this girl?"

"Her name is Athenias Ash. She's a fifth year Slytherin. Sort of curly black hair, really tall, a bit heavy set?"

"How do we know her?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"We don't. Right after, I went and found Tracey and asked who she was based on what she looked like."

Harry snorted. "That's promising."

"Yeah," Roderick agreed, sounding apprehensive and sheepish and excited all at once. "Anyway, what's this about Oliver Wood?"

"Oh! He's asked out Delf!"

"He's done _what?"_ Roderick jerked up straight.

"I know! Mental, right?"

"And you're alright with that?" Roderick sounded oddly dubious.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Um. No reason. So did you see him ask her?"

"No. I had to take Ron Weasley to Hagrid's—Ron's puking slugs, by the way—" Roderick dismissed this news with a flick of his fingers. "—and when I was coming back up, Katie told me all about it. She said she's never heard Oliver so polite."

"I've never heard Oliver polite, full stop," Roderick countered. "Odd though: he's not her type at all."

"Delf has a type?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. You know: guys who aren't nearly three years older than her, and who she knows really well. Nothing too specific."

"I didn't know that. Are you sure _you're_ okay with this? I mean, I can tell you and she have… a sort of thing."

Roderick stared at him incredulously. "You're joking. Harry, Delf and I literally think of each other as siblings. We do not have any sort of 'thing'."

Harry blinked. "Oh."

Roderick laughed. "Honestly, mate, you're about the thickest thing since Professor Binn's final exam last year."

"I am _not_ ," Harry retorted hotly, though more because he felt foolish than because he took offense.

Just then, the door to one of the girls' dorms opened and closed behind them. They craned their heads around to see Delf coming down the stairs.

"Hello, boys," she said, approaching their couch. "You'll never guess what just happened." Oddly, her eyes were hazel, which meant worried.

"Oliver Wood asked you out," Roderick said.

"And you agreed," Harry finished.

Her mouth dropped open.

"Katie told me," Harry said apologetically.

"And he told me," Roderick added.

"Oh," she said stiffly, and her eyes melted from orange (angry) to grey (sad), and back and then forth again.

"Don't be cross though," Harry implored. "We're very excited for you."

"Is me seeing him… alright with you?" she asked hesitantly, and Roderick shot her one of those looks that had made Harry think they had a thing.

"You don't need our permission to date," Harry said, laughing. "Hell, maybe you can make an improvement on him."

"Maybe… since it's the first Hogsmeade trip this year, we could all just go together?" she said hopefully. Her eyes were the color of wet slate. "I could turn down Oliver, and you could… postpone Katie… I mean, poor Roderick doesn't have a date. How awkward is that for him?"

"I do actually have a date," Roderick muttered, and responded to her dumbfounded expression by giving her a short version of what he'd told Harry.

The silence as they went down to supper shortly afterwards was strangely tense.

-o-

The next evening, the owl to Potter Manor bore Tom's first letter of the year:

_Dear Mum and Dad,  
I'm heartbroken. I didn't make Seeker on the Gryffindor team for the second year in a row._

"Oh, the poor thing. I hope he doesn't take it too hard."

_How could they be so blind to my obvious talent? Another thing that made me mad was that Draco Malfoy bought everyone on his House's team Nimbus 2001s! And they made him Seeker for it! Dad, could you do that for me?_

"Did he really…?"

"This is… a problem…"

_I'm not serious._

"Oh thank goodness…"

_It would be nice to have a certain way to get on the team, though I know honor must always come first. I would have tried out for Chaser or Keeper or something, but Oliver Woods is already Keeper, and he's Captain, so no luck. And the Weasley twins are our Beaters. And we also have three Chasers who everyone thinks works really well together. They're all girls. Harry's dating one._

"Wait, what?!" Lily shouted.

"He moves fast–! I mean: that's terrible…. Why didn't he tell us?"

"Nice save, dear."

"Er… right…."

_I wouldn't have a problem with it except for they're in different Houses. I think he's using her for inside Quidditch info._

"I knew it! He gets this from you, you know!"

"I was never like that! Now, if she was a Slytherin –"

"That's EXACTLY what I mean!"

_Love, Tom_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> A little short and light on plot this week, but setting up the social scene that's going to play out over the rest of the year is important too :)
> 
> (And to anyone who thought the chapter title implied he was going to wake up and smell the roses about Delf... uh... sorry.)
> 
> Chapter 10, "Dating and Disasters", goes up next Sunday!
> 
> Half credit for this story goes to my friend fire1: we developed and outlined this idea together and there's no way it would exist without her. Go check her page out!
> 
> All characters are owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros, etc.
> 
> E.I. signing out


	10. Dating and Disasters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, I don't have any Notes but Excited-Insomniac did when she posted on FF.Net   
> Fire1-
> 
> (A quick thing about Harry and Delf. I have gotten a ton of feedback about their friendship/dynamic/whatever you want to call it, so here's the 411: their romance is progressing very slowly, yes, and Harry has been a real moron in some ways, I know. As I was writing it, I was imagining that Delf's been in love with Harry (and hiding it badly) since they were about 11 (basically since the Prologue), so when she gets a bit jealous and possessive, that's her in 'normal mode' as far as Harry's concerned. I'm sorry it's been frustrating for some of you, that really wasn't my goal. For those who think it's funny to see Harry so dense or Delf get jealous, I'm glad you're happy. The way I have it planned right now, they're not going to be getting together for another few years (they are only 14 at this point, remember, and while I do know a couple who got together at that age and made it work, that's the exception rather than the rule). But rest assured they are not going to stay "Jealous Delf" and "Dense Harry" that whole time. Things will develop and change between them before they get together romantically, and I hope that keeps you invested enough to continue on this journey with me :)
> 
> And so, without further ado... Excited-Insomniac.)

 

_Dating and Disasters_

October was grey and brought rain, and seemed to take forever. Lockheart persisted in being an ignorant blowhard. Tom strutted about the castle like he owned it even after people stopped being impressed with him for the car incident. The Howler didn't seem to have dulled his pride.

Harry won the first Quidditch game of the year against Slytherin. Draco was fast, sure, but it was hard not to be on the Nimbus 2001. And he just didn't have enough training yet. The Slytherin team, of course, didn't take the defeat lightly, and Harry spent the next several days getting glared at in the hallways and classrooms.

But finally, it was October 30th, aka, the first Hogsmeade trip of the year. Harry was in extremely high spirits as he and Delf and Roderick went down for breakfast, a condition only slightly shared by Roderick and not shared by Delf at all. She really was acting weird lately. Upon entering the Great Hall, he scanned Gryffindor table and saw that Katie was not yet down.

"So Delf, where are you and Oliver going today?" Harry asked as they all sat down.

Her eyes turned hazel. What was she worried about? "What do you mean?" she asked. "Aren't we all… sticking together?"

"No, we're all going to go out on our own for a bit and then meet back up at the Three Broomsticks," Harry replied, pouring juice for them all.

"When did this get decided?" she said shrilly.

"In Care of Magical Creatures yesterday," Roderick explained, his voice oddly subdued.

"That's not fair!" she nearly shouted. Heads began turning see what the disturbance was, and she lowered her voice. "You can't make decisions for all of us when I'm not there!"

"But Delf, it's a date," Harry said, feeling more and more perplexed by the moment. "If we all stuck together the whole time, it would defeat the purpose."

She scowled, averting her eyes so he couldn't see what colour they were.

The next several minutes were filled with a rather awkward silence, and Harry was almost relieved when they were finished and got up to go back upstairs.

"You aren't even going to tell her good morning?" Delf asked rather snidely as they neared the doors to the rest of the castle. Confused all over again, Harry glanced about and saw that Katie, Angelina and Alicia had all somehow snuck in while he had been distracted by breakfast. Katie saw him notice her (she must have been watching him, he realized guiltily), and gave a little wave.

"Quick, give me some parchment," Harry demanded, sticking his hand out at his friends and drawing his wand at the same time.

"Would we get it back?" Delf asked skeptically.

"No," he replied as Roderick produced half a scrunched up sheet with some botched Potions notes on it and handed it over.

Harry smoothed the page as best he could, tapped the centre of it, whispered some words and folded it thrice so to give it rudimentary wings. He tapped it again with his wand, and it fluttered off across Gryffindor table to land neatly in her outstretched hands. Harry mimed unfolding it and holding it to his ear when she looked at him, and she followed his instructions. If the spell had worked, she would now be hearing him say that he would meet her at the school gates at 10:30. And since she looked up and grinned and nodded at him, he thought himself quite a success.

"Aren't you going to find Athenias?" Delf asked Roderick as they wended their way up to Ravenclaw Tower.

"No," replied Roderick. "I reckon she asked me out, so she can find me to say good morning if she wants."

"Rough," Harry laughed as they rounded the last corner before the common-room door.

"What is the only thing that goes on forever?" the eagle knocker asked.

"This damned morning," Delf snapped.

"No," the knocker intoned calmly.

"The present," Roderick interjected before Delf punched the eagle in its sharp bronze beak.

The knocker murmured "Nicely concise," as the door swung inward. Delf didn't even say anything as she flounced up the stairs to the girls' dorm.

"What's her problem?" Harry asked as he and Roderick climbed the opposite steps. "Is she having a tiff with someone that I don't know about?"

"Not really," Roderick replied evasively, letting them into their dorm. "Hey Will, hey Lawrence." Their dorm-mates looked up from their activities and nodded.

"What then?" Harry insisted.

"I just think she feels a bit like the second fiddle. She wanted to go to Hogsmeade with someone else and had to settle for Oliver."

"Why didn't she just ask whoever it was then?" Harry asked, pulling his cloak out of his trunk.

"He had a date already," Roderick replied, throwing some dirty socks in a corner, in search of at least one clean one.

"Ooh, ooh, are we finally having this conversation?" Will asked excitedly, throwing aside his shoe and vaulting over two beds to land on Roderick's like an eager puppy.

"What conversation?" Harry asked.

"No, we're not," Roderick answered Will sternly, giving him what Harry considered a very pointed look.

"Damn," Lawrence muttered, and went back to combing his hair in front of the small mirror attached to the wall.

"What conversation?" Harry repeated.

"So Lawrence, are you going with Beverly today?" Roderick asked. Harry was seized by the sensation of being surrounded by a giant conspiracy, and didn't like it one bit.

"What conversation?" he demanded loudly.

"Not exactly." Lawrence smoothly ignored him. "Once we get down there, I'm going to ask if she wants to get a Butterbeer before we come back up to the castle."

"Ask her to the Hog's Head, not the Three Broomsticks," Roderick suggested. "She'll think you're mad fierce."

"Right smart, that is," Will agreed. "I think my shoes are too small."

"HELLO?" Harry called. "Am I even here?"

"Try mine: they're too big for me," Roderick said. "You ought to ask out Amanda. Then there's only Andrew, though Kelly would never go out with him. Where is he anyway?"

"The Library," Lawrence replied. "He can't go to Hogsmeade anymore. I hear his parents are wicked strict and rescinded his permission over summer because he got an E rather than an O on one class."

Roderick frowned. "Seriously?"

"It's mental," Will agreed, shaking his head and putting on Roderick's shoe. "Hey, these are alright. How are mine on you?"

"Not bad," Roderick replied, walking around and rolling his ankles.

"I am going to take off my clothes and dance naked in the common room unless someone tells me what's going on," Harry threatened.

"Go ahead," Will challenged. "But there's no way I'm asking out Amanda," he continued the other conversation. "You heard her with that new girl. 'Loony' and all that. I reckon I can do better."

"Fair point," Will agreed.

"I want to know what you were talking about!" Harry interrupted hotly.

"Girls, obviously," Lawrence said, grinning impishly.

The next forty-five minutes weren't happy ones for Harry, but they were quite amusing for Will, Lawrence and Roderick. They continued to blatantly ignore his requests to know what they were talking about, and persisted in discussing girls.

He was still sulking as they all trekked down to the Front Gates, but his mood cleared somewhat when he saw Katie waiting for him.

"Hey," he said, breaking off from his group as it dispersed into the larger crowd.

"Hi," she replied, smiling at him and adjusting her robes nervously.

"You look great," he said, remembering Lindsey's instruction. "I hope you weren't waiting long."

"No! Well, I was, but it was my own fault," she said sheepishly. "I was so worried about being late that I wound up being really early."

Harry laughed and was preparing to tell her about how his dorm-mates had harassed him when a large burly figure emerged from the crowd and bee-lined for him.

"Where's Daphne?" Oliver demanded, bypassing the greetings stage of the conversation.

"Um… I dunno," Harry replied. "She didn't come down with us. I expect she'll be here soon though."

"We agreed to meet ten minutes ago," he groused. "It's rude!"

Harry was starting to wonder why Delf had agreed to go out with him in the first place. "It's a girl thing. They like to keep you waiting," he said.

Katie cleared her throat.

"Present company excepted," he corrected himself. "Roderick might know," he added, more to steer Oliver away from them than because he thought it was true. Besides, Roderick looked like he could use a diversion from Athenias, whom he had only just greeted.

Most of the students left for town shortly afterwards, including Roderick and Athenias, but Harry stayed with Katie so she could get her permission form checked, and when they walked down the path away from the school, Oliver was still standing by the gate, checking his watch every two seconds and muttering angrily to himself.

"I don't think your friend Daphne is very eager to go with him," Katie noted once they were around the bend and Oliver couldn't possibly hear them.

"I'm getting that impression as well," Harry agreed. "I don't know if she even likes him."

"Has she ever dated anyone before now?" Katie asked.

"Not that I know of, and I think I'd know," Harry replied, chortling.

"You have though, yeah?" She sounded strangely hesitant.

"Dated someone? Yeah, I went out with Cho Chang for a couple months last year. I don't know if 'went out' is the right term, exactly, but… well… we were together, in any case."

"Oh yeah, I heard about that. I had Transfiguration and Charms with Ravenclaw last year, and she and that friend of hers, Marietta, wouldn't knock off about it. But that's not what I was talking about."

"Oh. Then… what?"

"Well, there are these rumours around about this last summer, and a girl in Ireland…"

"Tom…" Harry groaned. "Okay, tell me what you've heard and I'll tell you if any of it's right."

"Em, okay… Well, you went to Ireland…"

"Correct."

"And you met a girl."

"Lindsey. Correct."

"And you… um."

"Yes?" he prompted.

"You… _did_ it?"

"Wrong! No! That's Tom's jealous side coming out. Here's what it was: the vacation was meant to be for me and my godfather Sirius—I guess you wouldn't remember him teaching here—but my mum horned in because she thought I was being rebellious."

"You?" she repeated, slightly incredulous. His reputation preceded him in this case.

"I know: she's a bit dotty about that stuff. Anyway, I met Lindsey there, and we were both bored, and she was friendly and I was pissed at my family, so we joined forces to piss them off too."

"And I take it, it worked."

"Like you wouldn't believe," he said, rolling his eyes at the memory. "We did snog a bit, that much is true. But that wasn't to piss off my parents. That was only a side-effect of us snogging. She just had a lot more practice than me and was giving me some pointers."

"Oh. Then you didn't…?"

"No, I swear. Tom just got incredibly jealous because I was snogging an attractive American girl and he wasn't, so now he's spreading tales to try and make me looks bad."

"Actually, everyone who's heard it is pretty impressed."

"Well, I did say _try_ and make me look bad. He's not a very competent gossip monger yet. Give him a few years." He sounded a rather more bitter than he'd meant to, and Katie noticed.

"You and Tom don't really… get on, do you?" she asked hesitantly.

"It's not that we don't get on…" He relented. "Well, okay, we don't get on. But we were raised very differently out of necessity, so it has nothing to do with dislike. I mean, Tom is Tom. He's The Boy Who Lived, everyone knows that. He learned to deal with things like the Crescent Gala and a new Chocolate Frog Card every two years, and everyone knowing his name. I learned to be independent, and now that they've finally noticed that, they label it 'rebellious' and try to pretend they didn't make me this way."

He's said more than he'd meant to, he realized as the silence lengthened without Katie saying anything. Great. Now it was awkward.

"I don't mean to sound like a whiner," he muttered apologetically. "I do love Mum and Dad and Tom. They just really frustrate me sometimes."

She laughed a little bit. "Harry, every student at this school could say the exact same thing about their family, including me, but no one else's brother is The Boy Who Lived. Don't trivialize the issues that must cause."

His smile felt a little lopsided, but it was there, and he felt better for it.

"So, where to first?" he asked, a tad too jovially, as they came into view of the village.

"How about Zonko's?" she suggested, sensing his desire to change the topic. "The twins won't shut up about it."

They spent about two hours ambling from shop to shop, Harry pointing out interesting features and sharing funny stories from the previous year, she asking questions and laughing a lot. As the clock struck one, they ambled off down the main road to The Three Broomsticks to meet Delf and Oliver and Roderick and Athenias.

As they entered the crowded pub, a gust of warm air and a hubbub of conversation washed over them. Harry didn't think he could ever get tired of The Three Broomsticks. It felt like going into the common room after a really nice autumn Saturday, no matter what time of year it actually was.

They found Delf and Roderick and their respective dates tucked into a secluded corner booth, all four occupants nursing Butterbeers and looking something between bored and suicidal.

"Whose mother died?" Harry asked, following Katie onto the bench across from Roderick and Athenias.

"Harry!" Delf exclaimed happily, sitting up straight and uncrossing her arms. Harry couldn't quite tell, but her eyes might have been terribly orange just a second before. "How are you? A bit too overcast for a good proper date, wouldn't you say?"

He thought that an odd thing to bring up but let it slide. "Really? I didn't notice," he said, smiling at Katie, who blushed a bit and smiled back.

"So where did you go?" Roderick asked.

"Here and there," Harry replied. "I just gave her the basic tour. Zonko's, the Shack, Honeydukes, you know. What about you two?"

"Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop," he replied, the thinnest note of contempt colouring his tone. Harry resisted grimacing in response.

"That frilly tea shop?" Katie verified, obviously as unimpressed as the boys.

"Yes," said Athenias coldly. "That 'frilly tea shop'."

Katie had the sense to drop the topic and one of those annoying pauses grew between them all.

"What about you two?" Harry finally asked Delf and Oliver.

"I misunderstood the arrangement," Delf responded sullenly. "I was an hour late, so we just came here."

"Oh, is that what it was?" Katie said. "We thought you'd stood Oliver up!" The attempt at humor fell completely flat, though Harry did chuckle, to be nice. It was just the wrong audience.

They struggled through another five minutes of conversation, and the dense silence that fell afterwards was a relief.

Delf broke first: "I want to go back to the castle," she announced, thunking her tankard down on the polished wood tabletop.

"Me too," Athenias agreed. Roderick and Oliver stood up hurriedly, their ulterior motives perfectly obvious.

"Aren't you coming?" Delf asked sharply as Harry did not follow their example.

"I'd like to buy Katie her first Three Broomsticks Butterbeer, actually. I'll see you two back at the common room later on, yeah?"

"Yeah," said Roderick quickly, taking Delf by the elbow and steering her toward the door, letting Athenias and Oliver trail after as they willed.

"They were _not_ having fun." Katie diagnosed the obvious as the door swung shut behind the quartet. Harry shook his head in agreement, and then followed through on his word and bought her a Butterbeer. They chatted away quite happily for the next hour: she was an only child, born near Kent, the daughter of a witch and a Muggle man, which was somewhat unusual. They were laughing and joking as they made their way back up to the castle, and Harry didn't feel at all hesitant about taking hold of her hand and swinging it exuberantly back and forth, which made her laugh even more.

They stopped in front of the Fat Lady, and at that point Harry remembered what it felt like to be nervous. He had had a wonderful time: what now?

But again, Katie to the rescue: "Want to sit together at the Halloween feast tomorrow?" she asked.

"Eschew House traditions and enjoy myself at the same time? I can't think of anything better," he responded, smiling as well.

Then she leaned in on her tip-toes, using the hand he still held as an anchor, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "See you later, Harry," she murmured, smiling shyly. "Mugwumps." The Fat Lady swung open (glaring at Harry, as she apparently still remembered his presumptuous entrance the previous year), and Katie disappeared into the portrait hole.

Roderick and Delf were half-buried behind a large stack of books and parchment when he saw them in the common room. Or rather, he noticed them on his way upstairs when Delf called out; "Harry, where are you going?" and he looked down at them from the second landing outside his dorm.

"To write to Sirius!" he responded happily, and did just that.

-o-

The next day was Halloween, and Harry skipped lunch in order to get all his homework done so that he could spend the evening with Katie. As a result, he was a little light-headed and dizzy as they made their way down to supper, and the splendor of the Great Hall nearly sent him reeling.

Katie waved to him from the near end of the Gryffindor table, and he made his way over, making a silly, elaborate bow to her when he got there, so low he nearly hit his forehead on the edge of the table. She was laughing as he sat down across from her, grinning and privately starving. A yard or four down the table, he saw Oliver slither from his seat and go over to talk to Delf. Copycat. He'd only done that because he'd seen Harry greet Katie.

He got many funny looks from Gryffindors and Ravenclaws alike as the Great Hall filled up. The twins slapped him on either shoulder and joked that now he could play Seeker for them; Ginny, pale and peaked, stared at him with something bordering on reverence, or maybe terror; Colin Creevey came up and began to ask if him sitting there meant that Harry had swapped Houses, and how that worked, and did he have to ask the Hat or Dumbledore or his Head of House and all his Prefects until Harry forestalled him and promised to answer every question he could possibly come up with, _later_. There was a noticeable absence of Tom from the scene, and when he brought it up, Seamus, who was sitting nearby, explained that Tom and Ron and Hermione were all going to Nearly-Headless Nick's death-day party, and would be missing the feast. For some reason, this struck Harry as incredibly funny, and that's when he realized how hungry he really was.

The feast was sumptuous, of course. The house elves had done their usual incredible job. Harry enjoyed sitting with the Gryffindors: they were rowdier and more spirited than any other table, but he kept catching Delf looking at him, and he couldn't help but wish he had his best friends with him, as entertaining and fun as the Gryffindors might be.

And once the feast was over, he discovered how dreadfully tired he was. Dumbledore stood up and said a few words, encouraging them in their studies, blah-de-blah, good night, and there was a mass exodus towards the door. Harry was at the forefront of the large noisy crowd, and was the first to turn the corner and witness the tableau: Tom, Ron, Hermione… water on the floor… Mrs. Norris? Oh, Merlin, what was on the wall? The crowd fell unanimously silent.

_"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware,"_ Harry read softly.

"Enemies of the heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!" It was Draco.

Harry's eyes automatically sought Roderick, there next to the horrified Delf, and saw his expression twist to something bitter and ugly.

Just then, the worst possible thing happened: "What's going on here? What's going on?" Filch. Draco's shout was no doubt what attracted him, but then he saw Mrs. Norris and his face dissolved into a mask of horror.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked. Harry watched him wrench his gaze back and forth, seeking a target, before settling on the terrified-looking Tom. _"You!"_ he screeched. _"You!_ You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll—"

_"Argus!"_ Dumbledore, Professor of Deus Ex Machina, had arrived. Several other teachers tailed him, each reacting with revulsion and dismay to the scene. In the meantime, Dumbledore had stepped forward and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket where she hung.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger." Harry knew Dumbledore usually called Tom by his first name, and it must have stung to be reduced to his surname.

Professor Lockheart was one of the teachers who had arrived in the Headmaster's wake: "My office is nearest, sir—just upstairs—please feel free—"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore shortly, and strode quickly towards Harry's end of the hall. The crowd parted silently to let the procession pass: Dumbledore in the lead, carrying Mrs. Norris and looking grim; the sobbing Filch; Professor Lockheart, annoying and unhelpful; Tom, Ron and Hermione, trembling and pale; Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape brought up the rear. Tom met Harry's eyes for a split second as he went past, his gaze pleading, _'Do something!'_

Harry didn't do something. Tom obviously had nothing to do with what was going on. If Mrs. Norris was dead or otherwise, Dumbledore would figure it out and make sure Tom and his friends carried no blame, whether it was appropriate or not.

With the crux of the drama gone, noise began to return to the hall: the message on the wall was relayed from mouth to ear, and several people began to cry; arguments spontaneously broke out over whether Tom was guilty and if Mrs. Norris was dead or not; Ginny looked like she was about to keel over in a faint. Harry touched Katie's shoulder and left her with Alicia and Angelina to go find Roderick.

His friend looked like he'd eaten something sour and it was coming up to visit. Delf was murmuring something into his ear, but looked up and stopped when Harry came close.

"That was rough, huh?" Harry suggested lamely. Really, what was there to say after something like that? 'Sorry your brother's a bigot, better luck next time'? No.

"Draco used to pronounce 'Muggle' as 'muddle'. 'Muddle-born' sounds much nicer than 'Mudblood'." Roderick sighed heavily. "Let's go to bed. It's late."

-o-

As Harry predicted, Tom and his friends got off scotch-free. Things sort of returned to normal, except that Filch haunted the hallway where Mrs. Norris had been Petrified (as that, it seemed, was what had happened), and the words daubed on the wall hung like a pall over the student body. 'Enemies of the Heir…'

It was about a week after the event when Tom came up to Harry at breakfast and asked to talk to him. It was a Saturday, the day of the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, and no one was taking their work very seriously.

"What?" Harry asked once they were out in the Entry Hall, safely away from prying ears.

"I need to ask you something," Tom said gravely.

Not in the mood for the boy's melodrama, Harry sighed. "Spit it out then."

"Do you have any shredded Boomslang skin?"

Harry's eyebrows rose. Boomslang skin? _Shredded?_ "Why are you making Polyjuice Potion?" he asked suspiciously.

Tom's mouth dropped open. "How did you know? That was only one ingredient!"

"One: you specified 'shredded'. And two: I'm two years more advanced than you and I actually pay attention in class. Now tell me."

An absolutely tortured expression came over Tom's face. "But I _can't!_ You don't understand, this is really serious, and—"

"—and so is making Polyjuice Potion on the sly," Harry countered. "You could get in deep trouble, you know. Or does the 'no magic outside of class' not apply to you? Filch already wants you skinned because of his cat. Don't push your luck."

"You can't stop me," the younger boy muttered mutinously, scowling at the floor.

"True," Harry replied. "So here's a deal. I'll give you the skin—yes, I have some—but in return, you have to answer any three questions I ask at any point in the year in exact, specific detail without leaving anything out. Fair?"

"What!" Tom exploded. "That's not fair at all! You could ask me—I dunno, who I _fancy_ or something."

"Do you know how totally uninteresting that is to me? But, if you say no, you mean no. Have fun robbing Professor Snape's store room." He shrugged, and turned back towards the Great Hall. One step, two steps, three…

"Wait!" Right on time. He turned back to see Tom with his fists clenched at his sides, making what was clearly a difficult decision. "Fine, I'll do it. Three questions, at any point in the year, truthful answers. Bring the Boomslang skin to dinner."

"As if!" Harry snorted. "Professor Snape can practically hear the stuff. I'll put it in the wall niche behind Sir Nathan the Mirthful's portrait on the fifth floor east corridor tonight. Use the Cloak." Tom nodded seriously and scurried off to wherever Ron and Hermione were waiting for his report.

Harry himself went back into the Great Hall and told Delf and Roderick that the year was about to get a lot more interesting.

Roderick was at first deeply skeptical that a gaggle of second-years could pull off something so advanced as Polyjuice Potion, but Delf reminded him of their secret weapon (Hermione), and he was at least partially convinced.

"But who do you think they want to use it on?" he wondered worriedly, collecting more bacon off a platter. "I mean, it's Tom. With his talent for trouble, he could be planning to impersonate Dumbledore and fire Snape."

Delf snorted sourly. "That would be just like him."

"Well, I think I'll let the plot thicken a bit before I make him tell me everything," Harry said comfortably. "He wasn't happy about promising me that, but I think he'll keep his word. Honor unto death and all that."

"Gryffindors," Roderick chuckled.

"What's this about our noble House?" Fred asked, materializing at Harry's shoulder.

"That's it's an excellent House and we're sure to smash Slytherin in the match today?" George asked, materializing behind Delf and Roderick.

"Correct you are," they chorused, winking broadly. Harry and Roderick grinned, and Delf deigned to look a little less cross than she had in recent days.

"Alright then?" George asked as they sat down with the Ravenclaws.

"Yeah. Brothers making trouble, as usual," Harry replied. "Mine, this time."

"Then, by extension, ours," Fred noted.

Harry nodded reluctant ascent.

"What're they doing?" George asked.

"Dunno yet. Give me a week or so, we'll figure it out."

They filled about two hours comparing embarrassing facts about their younger siblings (for instance, Tom snored like a dragon with a head cold. Draco was the most ticklish person in the county. Ron used to think that 'wand' was what his boy bits were called), and at eleven, they escorted the twins down to the pitch. Harry waited in front of the dressing rooms for Katie while Delf and Roderick went up to find them seats, despite Delf's entreaties for him to go up with them and just greet her after the game, which he firmly refused to do. Katie arrived a few minutes later, out of breath with her broom joggling on her shoulder.

"Hi," she said breathlessly. "Can't stop—Oliver will kill me if I'm late—see you later—" He caught her up in a smooth bear hug as she whistled past. "Eep!" she squeaked as he lifted her from the ground.

"Good luck, okay?" he said, putting her down again.

"Thanks," she giggled, and ducked into the tent. Harry went up to the stands to find Delf and Roderick, grinning the whole way. He found them three rows up from the front, sitting with Tracey and Zadie. Delf didn't respond when he greeted them all and sat down.

A few minutes later, the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams came out onto the pitch, and Oliver and Marcus Flint shook hands. There was Katie, with fellow Chasers Angelina and Alicia; the twins, hefting their Beater's bats threateningly; their new Seeker, Imogene Scarlet, looked terrified. Draco and the rest of the Slytherin team looked distinctly self-confident with their new brooms. Madam Hooch's whistle rang out shrilly, and the fourteen players shot into the air. Harry's eye instinctively went in search of the Snitch, but it was a different ball entirely that caught his attention: why was that Bludger coming towards the stands? Right at—Tom!

Screams rang out and wood crunched and students scattered as the Bludger did what Bludgers did best and smashed through the stands right where Tom had been sitting a split second before. But Tom wasn't playing. He wasn't even on the team! Bludgers never went after crowd members!

Everyone was shouting and jostling, some trying to get closer to see what was happening, and most trying to get out of the way because they knew what was happening.

"Come on!" he shouted to Roderick, snatching a Gryffindor flag out of someone's hand and hurriedly Transfiguring it into a large, heavy club which still sported the scarlet and gold of its native House. Roderick caught up quickly, someone's scarf following the flag into club-form.

A large clear space had formed around Tom, who was cowering in a ring of splintered benches. Ron and Hermione hovered at the outskirts of the ring, shouting for Tom to get up and run, but unwilling to risk being smashed to bloody bits themselves. Ignoring them entirely, Harry eyed the Bludger's incoming curve and took his stance. The Bludger cracked off the club with a sound like thunder, and the ball careened away across the pitch, only the change direction like a boomerang and come whistling back at him. Out on the pitch, the Weasley twins were too far away to intervene.

"I've got this one!" Roderick called, positioning himself on Tom's other side.

"Tom, get out of here!" Harry shouted, scrambling another step up for better footing. Roderick's club connected with a satisfying _smack!_ and the Bludger went pelting off over his shoulder. Tom did as he was told, for once, and made a dash for the stairs and safety. The Bludger, however, swerved in midair to follow him, and Harry had to lurch sideways to knock it out of the way. But the bat connected badly, and the swing sent him off balance till he teetered at the edge of the stands. He regained his balance and looked up, only to see the damned thing speeding towards Tom, who managed to duck… leaving Harry directly in its path. He couldn't get the bat up in time. Roderick, horrified, was too far away.

_WHUMP._

The Bludger pounded into his gut with astonishing force, and knocked him backwards off the stands. Nothing but 50 feet of air between him and the earth below. He twisted as he fell, trying to land in a way that wouldn't—

He hit the ground with a muddy splat, and something familiar exploded in his arm. He blacked out.

What felt like several years later, he woke up to the awareness of terrible pain and a deep protective imperative. What was it?

"Is Delf alright?" he mumbled, and a sob nearby notified him that the answer was 'yes'. He pried one eye open, and saw something looming over him and blocking the sky: golden hair, gleaming teeth…

"Oh no, not you," he groaned.

"He doesn't know what he's saying," Lockheart said loudly to the anxious crowd gathered around them. It seemed to consist of most of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and Colin Creevey, camera click-click-clicking away. "Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm," Lockheart told him in what was meant to be a soothing tone.

"No!" Harry shouted, trying and failing to sit up. The pain was just as bad as before, if not worse. The Healer had said there would be a weak spot after last time…

"He's in shock," Lockheart said authoritatively. "I'll have to act fast to prevent serious damage. Stand back!"

Harry watched helplessly as Lockheart rolled up his jade-green sleeves, twirled his wand, and jabbed it at him.

A strange sensation spread along his arm, starting at his shoulder and working its way down to his fingertips. It wasn't quite pain, but it was extremely uncomfortable. It was almost like his arm was being deflated. It passed quickly, but he couldn't look: he knew that wasn't how it was supposed to feel. It didn't hurt anymore, true—but nor did it feel like an arm. His worst fears were confirmed when a collective gasp rose from the crowd around him, and Colin's camera starting clicking double-fast.

"Ah. Yes. Well…" Lockheart said.

"Harry! Harry!" he heard from somewhere off to the right. Roderick and Tom were arriving from the stands.

"Are you okay?" Roderick demanded breathlessly. "WHAT THE—"

"What happened?" Tom asked, his eyes very wide behind his glasses. He heard Delf start crying more loudly.

Harry risked a glance down at his arm, but what he saw made him go all faint and dizzy again. His arm looked like it had been replaced by a long flesh-coloured piece of rubber. He tried to move his fingers, and couldn't. Lockheart hadn't mended Harry's arm. He had de-boned it.

"Well now, that can happen—very complicated fracture—easy mistake, really. But the point is, the bone is no longer broken. And that— _that_ —is the thing to focus on. Now—Harry, yes?—why don't you just toddle on off to the Hospital Wing where Madam Pomfrey can patch you up, eh? Mr. Malfoy, perhaps you could help…? Now, Thomas, if I could just have a quick word…"

Harry could never remember feeling so light-headed, so weak, so _lopsided_ as when Roderick hauled him to his feet and looped his good arm across his shoulders. Delf followed them up to the castle, sniffing all the way. Harry didn't know what _she_ was so upset about: he was the one who'd broken his damn arm again.

Madam Pomfrey was not at all pleased.

"You should have come to me straight away!" she raged, holding up the remains of Harry's hand. "I can mend bones in a heartbeat, but growing them back— _well_."

"You'll be able to though, won't you?" Harry asked desperately. He couldn't go through life with a rubber arm! He _couldn't!_

"Oh, I'll be able to," the matron replied grimly, tossing him a pair of pajamas. "You'll have to stay the night. Change into those."

Roderick drew the curtain around the bed, blocking Delf out as Harry struggled to undo his own zip, a difficult operation with only one hand. Actually, doing anything involving clothing was a chore with only one hand, as he now found out. Roderick was left is paroxysms of laughter as Harry jumped up and down to get into his pajama trousers, making his boneless arm flop up and down like some giant flightless bird. Getting the arm through the pajama sleeve was another problem. It took several attempts (and as many spasms of laughter from Roderick) to make it so that his fingers didn't get stuck and double-up his arm inside the tube of cloth.

It took fifteen minutes, but he was finally dressed and in bed.

"I need you to do something for me," Harry said to Delf and Roderick when Madam Pomfrey had bustled off. "It looks like I'm not going anywhere for a bit, so I need you to put the quarter kilo of shredded Boomslang skin behind Sir Nathan the Mirthful's portrait on the fifth floor sometime today. I promised it to Tom."

"Have we forgotten the fact that Tom is a moron and shouldn't be trusted with anything more potent than a mild Pepperup Potion?" Delf asked skeptically. She had stopped crying, but her eyes hazel were still red and puffy.

"No, and trust me, I'm not thrilled about giving it to him. But he's up to something, and this is the only way he's agreed to tell me what it is."

"Harry!" Ah. Tom himself had arrived. "Don't worry, I've talked it all over with Professor Lockheart," he said, hurrying to his elder brother's bedside. "He knows exactly what went wrong. He—"

"Botched it. Yes, we know," Harry interrupted. "He's an incompetent quack who barely knows which end of his wand to hold, let alone what to do with it."

"That's not true!" Tom exclaimed. "He said that when a bone is broken that badly, it's actually very likely for the spell to eradicate the problem entirely instead of only partially fixing it. You ought to be grateful. He probably saved your life today."

"What!" shouted Delf.

"Who saved _whose_ life?" Harry asked incredulously. Tom had the grace to look abashed.

Just at that moment, the door at the end of the ward burst open and a veritable tide of students rushed in. Leading the charge was Katie and the rest of the Gryffindor team, all looking absolutely thrilled, which was puzzling. After them came Harry and Roderick's dorm-mates with several of Delf's, along with Tracey and Cedric and Ron and Hermione and a number of others.

"We won, Harry!" Katie cried excitedly, giving him as much of a hug as she was able given his bedridden state. "Draco was so busy watching Tom get nearly killed that he didn't even notice the Snitch was right next to him and Imogene got it no problem!"

"That's great! Well done!" Harry said, grinning at the Seeker, a short blond girl in seventh year with freckles to rival the Weasley's. She flushed happily under the praise.

"I heard Flint yelling at him earlier, and I reckon he wasn't too pleased," Fred elaborated, looking as happy as anyone has ever looked.

"I reckon that was the wickedest thing ever though!" Will cut in. "You just—had bats! And that thing was gonna kill you, you know? But you just— _wham!"_ He mimed Harry hitting the Bludger.

"And then you _fell_ ," Lawrence put in, awe evident in his tone. Several others picked up the words, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I remember that bit quite clearly, thanks," he said, and everyone laughed. "What happened next though? To the Bludger? And who was the moron that let Lockheart near me?"

"Madam Hooch exploded the Bludger," Cedric explained. "Right after you fell."

"And Lockheart's faster than most of us give him credit for," Tracey said wryly. "He was half way down the stairs before you even hit the ground."

"Speaking of which," George said, grinning. "Let's see it."

Harry rolled his eyes, but obliged, lifting his rubbery arm by the wrist and demonstrating its floppiness by waving it up and down. Squeals from the girls and loud approval from the boys (and the click of Colin's camera) met the sight.

"Lick your elbow!" Tracey suggested, giggling.

Harry did. "Gross," said Kelly while everyone else cheered. Then Fred grabbed his arm and smacked Cedric with it ("OW!" shouted Harry and Cedric together), and after that it was war.

Then someone shouted, "Kiss him, Katie! The hero deserves a kiss!" and the crowd took up the chant: "Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him!" Katie was pushed up next to his bed, looking excited and nervous and not a little overwhelmed. Roderick and Delf were sitting at the foot of his bed: Delf's eyes had turned pitch black. Had he ever seen that before? What did it mean?

Katie sat down next to him, eyes wide above a nervous little smile.

"I'm alright with it if you are," he told her, smiling a little bit. Honestly, he was more than alright with it: he wanted to a lot.

"Is that a challenge?" she asked teasingly.

He began to say 'no', but she was already kissing him. She smelled of fresh air and tasted of the pumpkin juice someone had been passing around. Everyone was cheering and cat-calling as she sat back and Harry was laughing as hard as everyone else when Madam Pomfrey came storming over, bearing a scary-looking bottle labeled Skele-Gro and a beaker. "What is going on here!" she shouted. "This is a hospital ward, not a common room! This boy needs rest: he's got thirty-three bones to regrow! Out! OUT!"

And so, grumbling and complaining, everyone left, most shaking his limp had in an ironic parody of a polite salutation. Katie was a brilliant red and wouldn't quite look at him, but dragged Angelina and Alicia, who couldn't seem to stop giggling, out behind her. Cedric, the twins, Andrew, Will and Lawrence all gave him big grins and "shook his hand". Tom looked like he couldn't quite decide to be impressed or disapproving, and finally just turned on his heel without saying anything.

Soon only Delf and Roderick were left, Madam Pomfrey glaring at them and tapping her foot impatiently.

"We won't disturb him, we promise," Roderick told her.

"We'll leave as soon as he falls asleep," Delf said pleadingly.

Perhaps because there were only two of them, or perhaps because she knew them as his best friends after last year, she let them stay as she poured a steaming beakerful of Skele-Gro and handed it off to him before going back to her office muttering about dangerous sports and incompetent teachers.

Delf watched him with the hazel-est eyes he'd seen to date as he drank down the liquid. It burned his mouth and throat and made him cough, and she hurried to pour him water from the pitcher by his bed.

"Eugh," he spluttered after his third glass of water. "I hate tonight already."

Madam Pomfrey bustled back up just then, bearing a wodge of bandages and three slim pieces of wood. Harry's eyes widened.

"Oh, don't look so horrified. Now, how active are you in your sleep?"

"Er… I dunno…"

"He talks a lot," Roderick supplied. "He moves around when he's dreaming, but doesn't walk or anything."

"I talk in my sleep?" Harry repeated, caught quite off guard. "You never told me that."

"You never asked. You say some pretty ridiculous things sometimes though," Roderick replied, sniggering.

"That's all I needed to know," Madam Pomfrey said crisply. "You two should leave."

"But you said we could stay!" Delf protested.

"I changed my mind. Out!"

His friends reluctantly complied, promising to come back bright and early in the morning to see how he was doing.

As the door swung shut behind them, he heard Delf ask, "So what does he say in his sleep?" Harry was a little miffed that he was being excluded from hearing something he himself had said, and resolved to demand a recap later.

But in the present moment, the grumpy matron was busy wrapping his arm in splints and explaining that the new bones would be extremely brittle for the first several hours, and he couldn't risk shattering them by unconsciously moving his arm.

And when she was done with that, he had nothing to distract himself from the tingling pins and needles beginning to crawl down from his shoulder. He settled in for a very uncomfortable night.

Several hours later, he awoke in the pitch darkness to the sensation of what felt like many large splinters being buried in his arm. At first he thought that was what woke him—it was certainly uncomfortable enough—but then he felt someone sponging his forehead and sniffing in the dark.

"Who? What? Get off!" he said loudly. Then, _"Tipsy?"_

But no: his visitor was a house elf, to be sure, but this was the sorriest looking creature he'd ever seen. The pillowcase he wore was grubby and torn in places, and his little body was trembling and emaciated. He had bandages on all of his fingers, and burn marks and scars covered what was visible of his skin. His luminous green eyes were as big as each of Harry's fists (once he was able to make two fists again), and they were now wide and tearful.

"Sorry, sir, sorry! Dobby did not mean to—that is, you were not—Dobby—" The tears threatening to overflow did just that, and he burst into noisy sobs. "Thomas Potter is at Hogwarts!" he wailed. "He got to Hogwarts without the train and Dobby does not—Dobby could not warn—graaaave daaaaanger!"

Astounded and perplexed, Harry could only sit and stare.

"And his brother— _protected him_ from Dobby! And _his brother_ got hurt! And Thomas Potter is at Hogwarts! Dobby tried so hard…" He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

Comprehension was slow to dawn. "Erm… Dobby," Harry said slowly. "Am I understanding you correctly in that _you_ were the one who prevented Tom and Ron from getting through the barrier to the Hogwarts Express? And cursed the Bludger to go after him?"

"Yes," Dobby moaned. "Dobby failed to protect… Thomas Potter is in grave danger…"

"So, how does trying to kill him with a Bludger not fit the grave danger description?" Harry asked, reining in his own (perfectly justified, he felt) anger. "Because it seems like that's the most dangerous thing to have happened to him this year."

"If only Dobby could say!" the house elf wailed. "The brother of Thomas Potter does not know what his brother means to us, the lowly, the enslaved, us dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers what it was like when He Who Must Not Be Named was at the peak of his power, brother of Thomas Potter. We house elves were treated like vermin! Of course, Dobby is still mostly treated like that, sir," he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase. "But mostly, sir, life has improved since he triumphed over He Who Must Not Be Named. Thomas Potter survived, and the Dark Lord's power was broken, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Thomas Potter shone like a beacon of hope for those of us who thought the dark days would never end, sir…" Harry rolled his eyes a little at the grandiloquent description of Tom, glad his brother wasn't there to hear it and get an even fatter head. Seeing his reaction, the wretched house elf went on yet more earnestly. "And now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Thomas Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more—"

Dobby froze, horror-stricken, then seized Harry's water jug off the bedside table and cracked himself over the head with it before toppling out of sight. A moment later, he crawled back onto the bed, cross-eyed, muttering "Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby…"

"The Chamber of Secrets?" Harry repeated, confused. "But Tom isn't Muggle-born. What does he have to fear of it?"

"Ask Dobby no more questions, sir," the house-elf moaned, and Harry grabbed his wrist before he could snatch up the water jug again. "Thomas Potter is in grave danger here at Hogwarts! You must protect—"

Dobby suddenly froze, his bat-like ears quivering. A moment later, Harry heard it too: footsteps coming down the passageway outside.

"Dobby must go," the house elf breathed, and with a loud _crack_ , Harry's hand was gripping only air. He threw himself down in the bed as the faint light coming through the open door was blocked by a pair of figures: Professor Dumbledore, wearing a long woolly dressing gown and nightcap, was carrying one end of what looked like a statue, and Professor McGonagall followed, carrying its feet. Together, they heaved it onto a bed.

"Get Poppy," Dumbledore whispered, and McGonagall hurried past Harry's bed, where he lay quite still, pretending to sleep. He heard urgent voices, and then McGonagall went past the other way, followed by Madam Pomfrey. He heard her gasp sharply.

"What has happened?" the Matron asked, bending over the statue in the bed.

"Another attack," said Dumbledore. "Minerva found him on the stairs."

"There were a bunch of grapes next to him," said Professor McGonagall. "We think he was trying to sneak up to see Potter."

Harry's stomach dropped through his mattress. Ever so slowly, he raised his head to catch a glimpse of the statue on the bed. A ray of moonlight fell across the figure's staring face: Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide and his hands were stuck out in front of him, holding his camera.

"Petrified," whispered Madam Pomfrey. "The same as Mrs. Norris..."

"Yes," Professor McGonagall agreed. "But I shudder to think… If Albus hadn't been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate who knows what might have…"

The three adults stared down at the silent, frozen student. Then Dumbledore leaned forward and pulled the camera out of Colin's rigid grip.

"Do you think he might have gotten a picture of the attacker?" McGonagall asked eagerly.

Dumbledore didn't answer. He pried off the back of the camera—

A jet of steam hissed out of the back. Harry, three beds away, caught the acrid stench of burnt plastic.

"Good gracious!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, waving at the air to dispel the scent. "Melted… all melted."

"But Albus, what does this _mean_?" McGonagall asked urgently.

"It means," said Dumbledore, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."

Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore.

"But, Albus… surely… _who?_ "

"The question is not _who_ ," Dumbledore said, his eyes fixed on Colin. "The question is _how_ …"

From what little he could see of their faces, Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall didn't understand the Headmaster either.

-o-

The next time he woke up, his mother was screaming: _"Dear Mum and Dad!"_ By her tone, she was reading from something, and since Tom was the only one who wrote their parents letters home anymore, she must be reading one of his. No point in being awake just yet then.

_"I'm writing to you because I'm actually really concerned for Harry. During a Quidditch match today between Slytherin and Gryffindor, a Bludger went rouge and tried to kill me."_ Lily suddenly interrupted herself to demand, "We don't get a letter? Are you joking? A Bludger tried to kill my son and we don't hear anything from the school?"

"You understand what this means, don't you? Tom narrowly avoided an assassination attempt yesterday!" James interjected.

Not according to Dobby he hadn't, but they were so used to thinking of Tom as the target of every possible plot and scheme that they probably wouldn't believe otherwise if he told them…

_"Why would this make me concerned for Harry, you_ ask," Lily went on, doing great honor to Tom's melodramatic writing style. _"Well, as luck would have it, Harry and those two friends of his, the older Malfoy and that snarky girl they hang out with,"_

'Ugh, he doesn't even know their names, the prat,' Harry thought.

_"were sitting near me in the stands and immediately leapt to my defense."_

"Where were the professors? Why was it Harry who had to 'leap to his defense'?" James demanded. Harry wondered who they were talking to, and felt pretty sorry for whoever it was. But not sorry enough to get up and do anything. This was too good a chance to eavesdrop to pass up.

_"They Transfigured some items into bats and tried to keep it away from me so that I could escape. Unfortunately, Harry was forced close to the edge of the stands, and an unusually vicious swipe from the Bludger sent him over the edge and he fell many hundreds of feet to the pitch below and broke his_ arm." There was a catch in Lily's voice on the last words, and a sudden savage flare made him hope she was thinking of his disaster of an eleventh birthday, of the first time he'd broken his arm, and all their failures since. But she recovered and went on, "Again, no letter? When were you planning to tell us about this? WERE you planning to tell us about this?" The answer, Harry thought, was probably a 'no'. Lily seemed to think the same and was absolutely livid. _"Professor Lockheart did his best to fix it right then and there, but the break was so bad that the magic didn't work and instead all bones in his arm disappeared. He explained everything to me_?!" Lily interrupted herself again, her outrage suddenly refreshed. Perhaps she hadn't read this far in Tom's letter when they first received it? "I'm a trained Healer, and I know there's no break bad enough that wouldn't respond at least partially to a bone repair spell. At the very least, it doesn't backfire to the point of losing all the bones in the limb!"

"This Lockheart fellow sounds like a fraud," James put in, not to be outdone by his wife. "This is drawing your character judgment into serious question, you know."

Lily continued: _"I know you like hearing about these sorts of things from me first, and that's why I wrote so_ quickly." Yes, this was definitely the first time she was reading this part. Her reading had gotten less fluent and she sounded like she was just reading because there was no convenient place to stop. _"Please don't be too worried. Harry's fine in the Hospital Wing now, and no harm came to me. Also, he's still dating Katie Bell, the Gryffindor Chaser I mentioned last time, and I heard the other day that they were found in the second floor girl's bathroom, and Harry was making her kiss him."_

"We were NEVER in that bathroom and I would never make her do that, you lying bastard!" Harry exclaimed, badly startling his parents and Dumbledore, who, he now saw, was the person getting chewed out by the furious Potters.

"Oh, you're awake!" Lily said, rather flustered.

"And if you had done any such thing to that girl, you'd have a lot worse than your arm to contend with," James added threateningly.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> Woop woop, the plot is catching up with us!
> 
> I do have to say, I know reader opinion is pretty thoroughly against Tom, but I have an absolute blast writing his letters for every chapter. He's just such a blowhard, I love it. This was a different format than usual, but I hope it was still fun.
> 
> Chapter 11, "Unpleasant Surprises"!
> 
> Half credit for this story goes to my friend fire1: we developed and outlined this idea together and there's no way it would exist without her. Go check her page out!
> 
> All characters are owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros, etc.
> 
> E.I. signing out


	11. Unpleasant Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, No note's again and Excited-Insomniac also had no start of chapter notes. but she did at the end of the Chapter.   
> Fire1-

_Unpleasant Surprises_

After the combined forces of Harry, James, Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey and three hours were able to calm Lily down, Harry was discharged from the Hospital Wing. His mother still insisted on checking his arm personally (it was fine, albeit stiff: bones straight, strong, and new). But it was eleven o' clock when his parents finally went up to Dumbledore's office to Floo home, and Harry had missed breakfast. It was nice, he supposed, having his mum fuss over him, but he wasn't used to it, and it was rather exhausting. How did Tom do it all the time?

A little while later, after changing back into his robes and washing his teeth, he found Delf and Roderick in the Great Hall, hunched over cold lunch and a heavy book called _Advanced Transmogrification_.

"I can see you two have missed me terribly," he said by way of greeting as he slid onto the bench opposite them.

Their heads jerked up simultaneously. "Harry!" said Delf happily. "You're all... boned."

"What a terrible way to say that," Roderick admonished. Delf blushed and scowled.

"My arm has bones in it again, yes," Harry agreed, flexing his elbow and fingers as proof. "But I actually have a lot of things to tell you, so let's go somewhere else. Are you all done eating?"

"Yes," Delf said, closing the book. "We were just studying for Transfiguration." Wrong. Harry knew the book they had was far past their year level, and the covert glances that passed between them confirmed it: they were studying Animagi magic. He'd have to catch up now.

"But Harry, you've been in the Hospital Wing all night regrowing your arm. How could you have anything tell to us except that you're planning to kill Lockheart?"

"Well, I'm going to do that too," he said as he led them out of the Great Hall. "But that's not the point right now."

Just then, they passed Tom, Ron and Hermione coming in for lunch. "You're a rotten liar," Harry told his brother sternly. Tom looked up at him with wide, uncomprehending eyes. "Your letter? I woke up this morning to Mum reading it aloud to Dumbledore. Katie and I were _never_ in that loo, and I would never force her to do anything. You had no business telling Mum."

"I didn't say it was true," Tom protested feebly. "I just said what I'd heard."

"You knew it was a lie though. Some honor you've got," Harry said coldly, and led Delf and Roderick away from his deflated brother and his shell-shocked friends.

"I reckon that wasn't completely necessary," Roderick suggested quietly as soon as they were a couple hallways away. "Anyone with any common sense knows that's a lie, and who cares what Tom says anyway?"

"I know, but my parents don't have common sense, they do care what Tom says, and he needs to stop spreading stupid rumours before it gets him in trouble," Harry replied sharply, then felt bad. He hadn't had a fantastic morning, but he didn't want to take it out on them: "Sorry," he mumbled. Roderick shrugged it off.

They turned a couple corners in silence before Harry found a place that looked private enough: an out-of-order girl's toilet. As soon as he pushed the door open, he saw that someone else had already noticed its disused state and made good on it.

"Now we know where they're brewing the Polyjuice Potion, at least," Roderick noted dryly. "They were probably just coming from here."

Harry peered into the cauldron couched in the toilet bowl. Hermione clearly knew what she was doing, because he was sure Tom and Ron didn't. "You're right. Looks like they've just started."

"So what's going on?" Delf asked impatiently.

"Right. So Colin Creevey's been Petrified."

Roderick's mouth fell open.

"I saw Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore bringing him in last night. They said they thought he was coming down to see me."

"Merlin…" Delf breathed.

"But that's not even the strangest part," Harry continued. "I woke up in the middle of the night and there was this house elf next to me. I thought at first he was Tipsy, but he wasn't. He told me that he was the one who stopped Tom and Ron from getting through the barrier at King's Cross, and he was the one who jinxed the Bludger yesterday. He said that Tom is in mortal danger as long as he stays here, and that the Chamber of Secrets has been opened before."

"What!" Delf gasped. "But that's just a legend, everyone knows that."

"Then what?" Roderick insisted.

Harry shrugged. "He smacked himself over the head with my water jug and said 'bad Dobby'."

"Hang on!" Roderick exclaimed. "Dobby? _Dobby_!" There was a loud crack, and all of a sudden, a small, bedraggled figure stood in their midst. "This Dobby?" Roderick asked, pointing at the house elf.

Harry stared at the cringing creature, utterly gobsmacked.

"Dobby did not… Dobby is… Waaaahh!" He burst out crying again.

"Stop that," Roderick commanded, with uncharacteristic force. "Dobby, listen to me. Was it you who jinxed the Bludger yesterday?"

The elf nodded mutely.

"And blocked the portal to the train?"

Another nod. "Yes," he sniveled. "And Dobby stopped Thomas Potter's mail from his friends over the summer. Dobby hoped that if Thomas thought his friends didn't like him, he wouldn't want to go back."

"I remember that!" Harry exclaimed. "Tom was really mad they weren't writing him."

"Thomas Potter… has a brother who _loves him!"_ Dobby wailed. "Grave danger at Hogwarts!" He collapsed into another round of sobbing.

"Well now, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Harry protested awkwardly.

"Dobby," Roderick said, crouching in front of the elf. "What do you mean, 'grave danger'? What's going on here?"

"Dobby cannot say, Master Roderick, Dobby cannot say!" he howled. Roderick groaned and rubbed his forehead.

"Harry said you mentioned that the Chamber of Secrets has been opened before. Can you tell us about that?"

The elf gave a frightened squeak and ran to a sink, which he proceeded to smack his head against repeatedly. Roderick swore and grabbed him by the pillowcase, pulling him away from the plumbing fixture.

"Dobby," Delf cut in, her tone gentler than Harry had heard it in recent weeks. "If you tell us what the danger is, we'll be able to help protect Tom." Harry knew she was skewing her priorities quite badly, but it was worth a shot. Tom was certainly what Dobby was most fixated on.

Dobby looked at Delf through his bandaged fingers, but then burst into tears once more. "Dobby _cannot!"_ Harry sighed.

"Alright," Roderick muttered. "Dobby? Dobby, stop that." The house elf stopped crying quite so loudly. "Do you know how I always ask you to do things, not command?"

The elf nodded almost reverently. "Master Roderick is very kind to Dobby, sir."

"Yes, well." Roderick cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Right now, I'm going to give you a command, alright? Listen to me: you must never interfere in the life of Thomas Potter again. Tom had a giant row with his best friend because you blocked his letters, and they almost got expelled after you closed the barrier. And Harry nearly died because of your Bludger, do you understand? He was protecting Tom, and he fell off the stands."

Dobby gave a sniff that sounded suspiciously like "So brave…"

"Am I clear, Dobby?"

Dobby nodded his head sadly. "Dobby only wanted to protect Thomas Potter…"

"We understand that," Roderick said patiently. "But we're here, and much better equipped to look after him than you, okay? You need to worry about steering clear of Dad." Dobby nodded emphatically. "Okay. You can go home now."

_Crack!_ Dobby was gone.

"Tom didn't have a giant row with Ron," Harry said as the echoes of the Apparation dwindled to nothing.

Roderick shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Guilt was obviously a driving factor for him right then, so reinforcing that to make sure he stayed out of trouble was a necessary evil."

Delf shivered. "You sound so Slytherin."

Roderick glared at her. "Thanks."

"Sorry."

-o-

In the second week of December, Professor Flitwick came around and took down the names of all the Ravenclaws who was staying at school over Christmas holiday. Harry signed up as a matter of course; Roderick, because his parents were going out of the country; Mr. Greengrass had dragon pox, so Delf and Astoria had both been firmly instructed to stay at Hogwarts.

"Poor Dwight's been sent to stay with Aunt Cecilia," she told them over lunch, scanning the letter worriedly. "Knowing him though, he'll enjoy giving them hell for a while, so I almost don't know who to feel sorry for." The boys chuckled.

They had Potions afterwards, and when they got down to the dungeon, their first impression was something had exploded. Which, as it turned out, it had. Smoke hung in the air, and slimy bits of potion still clung to the ceiling and walls. Amanda poked a blotch next to her desk and started screaming when her finger immediately swelled to the size of a cantaloupe. She endured a ten-minute fit from Professor Snape, who then dosed her with a Deflating Draught. The second years who had the class before lunch had been working on Swelling Solution, and someone's (Professor Snape was exactingly vague on precisely whose) cauldron had blown up, causing mayhem and disrupting an otherwise uneventful class. Harry was not surprised to discover Tom had been in the group: they still needed bicorn hair for the Polyjuice Potion, and the Potions Master's private store was the only place to get it. It was a pretty good tactic, he mused as Professor Snape rattled off instructions with more than his usual sarcasm and spite.

"Well, in some ways, I'm comforted," Harry announced as they left the dungeons for their free track before dinner. "If Tom had managed to keep completely out of trouble for more than two weeks at a stretch, I'd have thought there was something wrong with him."

But things stayed quiet for the next week, until they were crossing the Entry Hall for dinner and spotted a gaggle of excited students gathered around the bulletin board next to the large hourglasses that kept track of House points (Ravenclaw was in the lead by a comfortable margin, he was pleased to note).

"What's going on?" Roderick asked the closest person they knew, a Hufflepuff girl in their year.

"They've set up a Dueling Club," she said eagerly.

"Brilliant!" said Harry. Delf looked at him, questioning his eager tone. "What? If you think about it, dueling is a really interesting magical skill and we're given next to no training in it." She rolled her eyes, knowing he was only rationalizing wanting to learn to jinx something really thoroughly.

"Still, pretty cool, eh?" Roderick said as they all sat down for dinner. "I bet Flitwick will teach it. I heard he was a wicked dueler when he was younger."

Delf had a somewhat more pessimistic opinion: "No, this just reeks of Lockheart. It has 'vanity project' written all over it."

"Ugh, you're right," Roderick grumbled.

But nonetheless, a sort of masochistic interest drew them back to the Great Hall at 8 o' clock that night. The four House tables had been removed to make space for a large golden stage that stretched the whole length of the long wall on the left. Thousands of lighted candles flocked over the stage, giving it radiance beyond its natural luster. There was an excited hum of conversation from the gathered crowd (which seemed to be made up of half the school, if not more). There were Tom, Ron and Hermione, right at the edge of the stage; Harry waved at Katie, off to the left with Alicia and Angelina, who smiled and waved back; Lawrence, Will, Beverly and Kelly edged out of the crowd to stand next to them.

"'Lo there," Will said cheerily. "Swanky old set up, eh? We reckon it's got to be Flitwick doing it. No one else is nearly qualified, we've checked." Lawrence nodded his agreement.

Delf shook her head. "No, we've been thinking too. We think it's Lockheart."

Identical expressions that were at once disgusted and crestfallen crossed Lawrence and Will's faces, and Beverly grimaced. Kelly didn't seem to be listening. "That makes perfect sense now that you say it, unfortunately," said Lawrence glumly. The trio's disdain for Lockheart had spread to most of the rest of their Ravenclaw classmates.

As though to prove Delf's point, Gilderoy Lockheart strode out onto the stage, followed, for some reason, by Professor Snape. Harry wondered what the Potions Master would be getting out of this: he looked about ready to murder someone. Though actually, maybe that's what he _was_ getting out of it.

Lockheart lifted his hands in the air, and silence descended with them. "Gather round, gather round!" he called heartily. "Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Dueling Club, to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions—for full details, see my published works." Delf snorted contemptuously, and Roderick and Harry rolled their eyes at each other. Vanity project, indeed.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockheart, gesturing behind himself and flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry—you'll still have your Potions Master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

"Yes, but will we have a Defense teacher?" Roderick whispered. Delf snickered and Harry grinned at the thought.

Up on the stage, Lockheart and Snape turned to face each other from about half the stage's length apart. Lockheart gave an elaborate bow with much twirling of hands, while Snape jerked his head irritably. They raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockheart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"Is he _looking_ at Snape?" Will whispered incredulously.

"One—two—three—" Lockheart cried.

Both men swung their wands over their shoulders, but Snape was clearly the superior wizard: _"Expelliarmus!"_ he cried. There was a blinding flash of scarlet light and Lockheart was blasted off his feet. He flew backwards off the stage, smashed into the wall and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Harry heard Draco and several other Slytherins cheering. A number of girls craned their heads and stood on their tiptoes to see if he was injured. Harry, Delf and Roderick smothered laughter in the backs of their hands and waited to see how he would cover himself.

Lockheart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy golden hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the stage. "That was a Disarming Charm—as you can see, I've lost my wand—ah, thank you, Miss Brown. Yes, as excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind me saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…" Lockheart suddenly became aware that Snape was glaring daggers at him. "Well then!" He clapped his hands together. "Enough demonstrations! I'm going to come among you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me…"

They moved out through the crowd, pairing people off as they went. Lockheart put Roderick and Delf together, and Harry was put with Kelly. Casting his eye over the crowd (now rather dispersed around the Great Hall), he saw with a quick jolt of amusement that Snape had put Tom and Draco together, and they were currently glaring at each other and fingering their wands. That wouldn't end well, and he couldn't help but preordain Tom the loser.

"Face your partners!" Lockheart cried, back on the stage. "And bow!"

Harry and Kelly faced one another across a good space of clear floor, and bowed. She was a pretty girl, taller than Harry by some two inches, wavy blond haired and blue-eyed, with the promise of a very full figure. "Don't go too hard on me, Harry," she said, with a sort of disquieting smirk.

"Er, yeah, sure…" he said.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockheart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent— _only_ to disarm them—we don't want any accidents. One… two… three!"

All around him, spells sprang to life, some stronger than others, some very accurate, others… less so.

_"Protego,"_ Harry murmured as Kelly copied Snape and tried to disarm him. Her spell glanced off his shield, and before she could do anything else, he had her wand soaring through the air to land neatly in his hand.

"Good match," she said a bit peevishly, coming over to collect it back.

"Sorry," said Harry said. "I guess I'm a little over-eager."

"You're a little over- _talented_ ," she corrected, again flashing that smile he couldn't read.

"Um… thanks?"

Not all of the 'duels' had gone as smoothly as theirs, however: Ron's wand had backfired and Seamus was lying on the floor looking quite groggy; Hermione and the large Slytherin girl she'd been paired with were wrestling rather than dueling, and Hermione was losing quite badly; Lawrence and Will were panting: they knew the spells, but didn't want to injure their best friend; Delf and Roderick were trading spells rather smoothly actually. Roderick looked like he often did on his broomstick, dodging and weaving, while Delf looked like she was conducting a very dramatic orchestral piece.

Tom and Draco, on the other hand, had deteriorated into something very creative. Draco was doubled over gasping with jinx-induced laughter, and Tom was doing some sort of Irish jig, yelling insults at the Slytherin the whole time.

_"I said disarm only!"_ Lockheart shouted in alarm. "Stop! Stop!" Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Roderick glance up at the professor to see if the order was addressed at him, giving Delf just the opportunity she needed to get him with a Full Body-Bind jinx. Roderick toppled over clumsily.

Luckily, Snape took charge just then, and yelled _"Finite Incantatem!"_ At once, Draco stopped laughing and Tom stopped dancing, and they were able to glare at one another, panting hard. Roderick got up too, rubbing his bum and grimacing at Delf, who looked stoutly unapologetic.

"Dear, dear," Lockheart tittered, skittering through the crowd looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you get, Macmillan… careful there, Miss Fawcett… pinch it hard: it'll stop bleeding in a second, Boot…

"I think I'd better teach you to _block_ unfriendly spells," he said, standing flustered in the centre of the Hall. He glanced at Snape for reassurance and got none from the man's glittering black eyes and blank expression. He looked quickly away. "Let's… let's have a volunteer pair! Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you?"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockheart," Snape interrupted. "Longbottom causes devastation with even the simplest spell. We'd be sending whatever was left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." Harry glanced around to see Neville's round pink face go pinker still. "How about Malfoy and Potter?" he continued. Harry and Roderick exchanged excited looks till Snape gestured Draco out into the middle of the Hall where a large clear area was forming.

"Excellent idea!" Lockheart exclaimed. "Now, Thomas, when Draco points his wand at you, you do _this_." He raised his wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and promptly dropped it. Most of the Ravenclaws tittered, and Snape smirked as Lockheart bent down to retrieve it, saying, "Whoops! My wand is a little over-excited."

Snape moved closer to Draco, bent down and whispered something in his ear. Draco's lips curled in an unpleasant smirk, and Harry saw Tom gulp nervously. "Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?"

Lockheart cuffed him on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Thomas!" Tom looked even more worried than before. "One—two—three—go!" Lockheart shouted.

Tom wouldn't have had time to do anything even if he knew what to do. Draco quickly raised his wand and shouted _"Serpensortia!"_ The end of his wand exploded and an enormous black snake shot out the end of it. It landed heavily, then raised itself and looked at Tom with mean little eyes. Screams rang out from the crowd and the ring around the second-years widened appreciably. Tom stood frozen in its path, clearly torn over fight or flight.

"Don't move," Snape said lazily, strolling forward. "I'll get rid of it…"

"Allow me!" Lockheart shouted, and Harry groaned. Why couldn't he just stay out of the way of more competent wizards? Like Filch? Lockheart brandished his wand at the snake, and there was a loud bang. Instead of disappearing, the snake flew a dozen feet in the air and then fell back to the earth with a meaty _smack_. It would have been nice if Lockheart could have de-boned the snake instead. Furious and hissing loudly, it slithered straight towards a Hufflepuff boy in Tom's year who was about three feet to Harry's left. Jason? Justin? The snake was hissing its fear and confusion, not that anyone but Harry could understand it. " _What am? Where safe? Predators near! Go hide go hide go hide!"_ It was confused about what it was, its purpose, its existence. Draco's spell had brought it to some kind of magical life, and all that had happened to it was painful, scary, and confusing. It didn't _want_ to hurt Justin or Jason or whatever, but it certainly would if he didn't move out of the way. And the boy looked frozen to the spot, too terrified to move. It took all of Harry's self-control to resist replying to it, reassuring it. But even that, he though, might not do much good. The poor thing was too terrified. This whole thing was barmy and had to stop.

Harry stepped forward smartly, drew his wand, and shouted _"Evanesco!"_ The snake vanished in a puff of black smoke.

A rather breathless, ragged cheer rose up from the surrounding crowd. Harry realized too late that this was the second time in as many months he'd put himself in the way of a threat aimed at Tom. It wasn't a good habit, and he didn't want to become known for it. But just then, he was stuck with his heroism.

"Ah-ha! Excellent, Mr. Potter, excellent!" Lockheart exclaimed. "Very effective use of the Vanishing Charm. Twenty points to Gryffindor. No, fifty!"

"I'm in—"

"Well, I think that's enough of a meeting this week, don't you?" Lockheart said jovially. "Regular meeting times will be scheduled and posted in the coming week. This was more of a chance to gauge your interest, which I can see is appropriately high! Good night then, off to bed…"

Silently fuming, Harry exited the Hall, Delf and Roderick close on his heels.

"That rotten wanker!" Roderick cried as soon as they were safely in the Entry Hall. Gryffindor's rubies now had a fifteen point lead on Ravenclaw's sapphires. "How could he not know you were in Ravenclaw? It's _on your robes!_ "

"Yeah!" Lawrence agreed angrily as he and Will elbowed their way through the crowd till they stood next to Harry and Roderick and Delf. "What a bastard! We were thirty-five points ahead of them before that!"

As the news of Harry's heroics and Lockheart's subsequent mishandling of his reward spread through the common room that night, anger over the issue grew with it. Harry took offense for mainly private reasons: he wasn't a Gryffindor. The damned Potter name was not synonymous with 'lion'.

Everyone else, however, took it very personally indeed: a slight to Harry Potter was a slight to Ravenclaw House as an institution, and to they themselves, its representatives! After all, Harry was the epitome of what it meant to be in Ravenclaw! He was what every Ravenclaw aspired to be!

Or so they told him.

By ten o' clock that night, there was a campaign being formed to confront Professor Flitwick about it, and naturally, Harry was elected to have the actual discussion, since he was the 'injured party'.

And so, the next day during their last Charms class of the term, Harry stayed on after his classmates left, most of them patting him on the back or nodding their support for him. Delf and Roderick hesitated to see if he wanted backup, but he waved them out with the rest of the class.

"Professor," he said, approaching the desk at the front of the room. "Could I talk to you for a moment?"

Flitwick looked up, his eye twinkling from under his hat brim. "Let me guess. This is about the fifty points Lockheart gave Gryffindor yesterday, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, sir. You see, there was this snake at the Dueling Club last night, and they thought it was going to attack a boy, but I made it disappear, and—"

Flitwick raised his hand and Harry stopped his rather disorganized tirade. "We teachers gossip too, Mr. Potter. Your actions last night are well known to all of us. If I had to guess, I'd say you're here because you'd like me to correct Professor Lockheart's rather egregious error in point allocation."

"Yes sir. The points don't bother me so much, but they do everybody else, quite badly, and they asked me to talk to you about it since I'm the, er, 'injured party', they said."

"And here you are."

"Yes sir."

"Well, Harry," (Harry started a bit at the familiarity) "I've actually just been waiting for one of you to come up and give me an excuse to correct this. Minerva nearly choked on a mint last night, laughing about it. Fifty points from Gryffindor. Fifty points to Ravenclaw. And five more for Miss Greengrass' efforts in class today. Tell her, won't you?"

Harry grinned. "Yes sir."

"I believe you have a free hour next. Go make good use of it."

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir!" He hurried out into the hallway as first-year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors filed in to begin their lesson. He headed to the right, meaning to go down to the Entrance Hall where his House-mates would have been watching for the change in the hourglasses.

But Hagrid was in the way. His face was entirely hidden by a snow-encrusted balaclava, but there was no disguising his girth. In his trademark moleskin coat, he filled up more than half of the hallway. A dead rooster hung, nearly swallowed, from one colossal hand.

"Hullo, Hagrid," he said cheerfully.

"All righ', Harry?" he replied, pulling the massive balaclava down so he could speak. "Why aren't yeh in class?"

"It's a free hour since I quit Divination," he replied. "What's with the, er, chicken?"

"Second one killed this term," Hagrid explained grouchily. "It's either foxes or a Blood-Suckin' Bugbear, an' I need Professor Dumbledore's permission ter put a charm around the hen-coop."

Harry nodded. "Sensible. I'll see you around, alright? I'll visit when it stops snowing."

"I'll keep ye ter tha', Harry!" Hagrid called as Harry squeezed past him and hurried off down the corridor.

Around a corner, down the stairs, behind the tapestry, down more stairs, swing a left…

_"Want to eat… crush… kill…"_ He stopped cold. The voice was back.

The hallway Harry found himself in was particularly dark, as a broken pane in a window was letting in a freezing draught that had extinguished most of the torches. A little way along the passage, he heard Professor McGonagall screaming at a student who had apparently managed to bungle turning his friend into a badger.

_"So hungry… so long…."_ It sounded like it was coming from around the next corner.

He hurried forward to see if he could catch a glimpse of whoever it was, but something tripped him halfway down the corridor, and he went sprawling.

Twisting about to see what the culprit was, he felt his heart literally stop in his chest: lying on the hallway floor, a look of frozen shock on his face, was Justin, that boy he'd saved from the snake only the previous day. But next to him, all the more terrifying, was Nearly-Headless Nick, the friendly Gryffindor ghost. No longer pearly white, he was smoky and grey, and was floating horizontally very close to the ground. His head was hanging askew, and his expression was identical to Justin's.

"Oh, no," he breathed. "Oh no, oh no, oh no…" He scrambled to his feet and sprinted the rest of the way down the passage way to the partially open door McGonagall's voice was echoing out of.

"Professor!" he shouted, skidding to a halt and badly startling the class of sixth-years.

McGonagall's head jerked around irritably, but when she saw Harry's wild expression, her eyes widened. "Potter! What in the name of—"

"You need to come see—quick—something's happened—"

Just then the voice he least wanted to hear split the air: Peeves. "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!" He closed his eyes and groaned.

The students exploded out of their seats and stampeded into the hall, despite McGonagall's shouts to stay where they were.

"You stay here, Potter!" she commanded as she dashed out after her class. He wouldn't have done anything else if she'd paid him.

Harry nervously listened to ten minutes of confusion and noise from the hallway: McGonagall enlisted some students to carry Justin to the infirmary; no one knew quite what to do with Nearly-Headless Nick till someone finally had the idea to conjure up a fan and waft him there. This plan was quickly implemented, and the chaos moved away down the hall as Transfiguration was quickly canceled.

Harry looked up anxiously as McGonagall reappeared in the doorway, her expression very severe. "Tell me what happened," she ordered.

"I… I was coming downstairs from—I was talking to Professor Flitwick after class, and I was coming downstairs to meet my friends, and I just tripped… He was just there in the middle of the floor, you saw, I wasn't looking where I was going, I wanted to see who'd turned who into a badger, I don't… I don't know what happened, professor."

She examined him shrewdly. Finally, she released a long sigh and rubbed her temple. "I believe you, Potter, so help me, I do. Go down to your friends. I need to report this to the Headmaster, assuming he didn't hear all the commotion just now."

He nodded, thanking his lucky stars he wouldn't have to go see Dumbledore as well.

By the time he got down to the Entrance Hall, news of Justin's Petrification had spread like someone dipped it in Swelling Solution.

Delf and Roderick were waiting for him at the bottom of the main stairs, and they both jumped up when they saw him coming.

"Come on," he said shortly, leading the way outside into the snow. When they were a safe distance out from the castle, he turned and saw their mystified and worried expressions. "No one's dead," he reassured them. They only looked more concerned. He sighed. "Okay. You've heard that that kid Justin was Petrified? And Nearly-Headless Nick?" They both nodded. "And I suppose you've heard I was there: that I found them." Another set of mute nods. "Well, that's all true, but there's more: right before I fell over them, I heard this… voice. It said it was hungry, that it wanted to eat something. It didn't seem to come from anywhere, and faded away really fast."

"It was probably just Peeves being—" Delf began, but Harry cut her off with a gesture.

"No, he popped up right after I found them and started screaming about it."

"Do you think it had anything to do with Justin and Nick getting Petrified?" Roderick asked. "Since it was the first time, there's no reason to think they're connected…"

Harry shook his head. "There was another time, nearly two months ago. I forgot to tell you about it because we got really distracted with Hogsmeade and dates and everything."

"What!" Delf exclaimed. "Harry, that's the most pathetic reason to forget to tell your best friends that you're hearing voices I've ever heard!"

"I know, but I assumed the same thing as you, that it was Peeves! And I've been alone both times, so there's no reason to say 'Harry's hearing voices' when we don't even know if other people can hear it or not, thank you very much."

Roderick was frowning thoughtfully. "So what do we do then? Just never let you be alone so that we'll hear it too?"

Harry shrugged helplessly.

"Harryyy," Delf complained. "We agreed after last year that we'd just relax this time. Tripping over Petrified ghosts and hearing mysterious voices does not fit that bill!"

"Well, it's not like I meant to!" he protested. "Come on, let's go in. I'm freezing."

"Yeah, why are we out here again? None of us have cloaks on," Roderick said, blowing on his fingers as they trekked back up to the castle.

"I'm not letting this get on the Hogwarts rumour mill. Do you know how quickly news gets around the castle? It's like there's a secret society of ghosts that only go around whispering gossip to people."

"No, that's your brother," Roderick corrected. "Merlin knows he doesn't do anything else." Harry laughed.

-o-

That weekend was the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor Quidditch match. The grounds were covered in a fluffy layer of snow as Harry and Roderick made their way down to the pitch after lunch. Delf had gone back to the dorm to collect her cloak and gloves, telling them she'd see them after the match.

"Morning!" said Abigail chipperly as they entered the changing rooms. "Beautiful conditions out there. Cloudy, so the sun won't reflect off the snow, but not actually snowing anymore. Quick, get changed to so we can start."

They greeted the rest of the team, got changed, and sat down for Abigail's pep talk, which was exactly five seconds long: "We know what we're doing. We're an excellent team, and that's why we're going to win." Chet and Chaz cheered as they all stood up to get on the pitch. "Oh, and Harry." He turned back to look at her from the tent flap. "Don't catch it too fast. The rest of us would like to play too."

He grinned. "I'll do my best."

The crowd roared as the two teams took the pitch. The teams were on good terms, and there were high fives and jokes and a lot of posturing across the buried mid-field line. Harry noticed a rather wicked gleam in Katie's eye as she grinned at him, so he was only marginally surprised as she shuffled forward through the snow drift to kiss him squarely on the mouth. They had kissed a few times since their first one on the hospital wing, secret, stolen, nervous things, but this was different, this was exciting. The crowds were screaming wildly when they pulled apart, and she was laughing.

"You only did that for the audience!" he shouted over the noise, but he was laughing too. Right then he felt he could fly without his broom.

"That's right! Now everyone knows you're mine!" she shouted back, clearly very pleased.

Once things had calmed down a few degrees, Oliver and Abigail shook hands, and Madam Hooch's whistle split the air. The teams took to the skies, each player soaring off to their positions. Harry kept a suspicious eye on the Bludgers for a few moments before deciding they were acting in their usual vicious way. He set out on his long counter-clockwise loop around the pitch, watching the game with one eye and keeping the other peeled for the Snitch.

"Harry! Harry!" The faint shouts drew his attention to the stands, where Delf was standing on the bench waving one arm and pointing diagonally across the pitch at the teacher's stands with the other. How could she have spotted the Snitch before him? He scanned the area quickly, but no golden glint was in evidence. He glanced back at her, confused. She was still pointing in the same direction, but he had to focus on winning the game, not chasing imaginary Snitches. He'd figure out what she wanted after the match. He soared away across the pitch, attention back on the game. Lee Jordan was narrating a scuffle going on near the Ravenclaw goal hoops, and the Gryffindors cheered as Alicia scored. He went back to searching for the Snitch.

Twenty minutes later, the teams were tied at sixty points each, and Harry was still circling, willing his fingers to not freeze off and cursing the Snitch for being so elusive. No, wait… There it was! Hiding down in the ripples of snow on the ground. The Nimbus seemed to respond to his thoughts before his hand directed it, and he was diving, down, down, down. He heard the collective gasp from the stands… he had it in his sights… ten meters, five, three…!

_The damn traitor thing moved!_ Harry twisted to the right, but his broom stayed on its trajectory, so what was meant to be a graceful dive turned into an awkward lurch as he went one way and his broom the other. His fingers locked around freezing metal as he hit the end of his reach and toppled arse over elbow off his Nimbus into the snow. The next several moments were a confusion of snow and sky and dizziness: he was upside down several times over, he was standing straight, he was flat on the ground, he had a mouthful of slush—

He sat up, shaking snow out of his ears, nose, mouth, and pretty much everything else. He looked at his tightly clenched fist: the Golden Snitch waved its wings feebly in his grasp, and he pumped his first triumphantly into the air.

His teammates landed around him, laughing and cheering, and Chet and Chaz hauled him up onto their shoulders and paraded him about in a circle. The Gryffindor team followed the Ravenclaws, and the twins pulled him back to the ground and gave him a noogie. They were disappointed to lose, of course (one look at Oliver's face proved that), but apparently Harry's landing had been worth it. He looked more like a snowman than anything. Roderick and the Gryffindor Chasers saved him from the twins, and he shook hands with Imogene and hugged Katie till she giggled and spluttered that she couldn't breathe.

Lee Jordan was narrating over the hubbub: "Just another in his series of dramatic catches! No broken bones this time, right, Harry?" Harry sportingly waved his arms in the rough direction of the teacher's stands where Lee did the announcing. "Mr. and Mrs. Potter, Harry has not lost a game in three and a half years, though there have been some close calls! How do you feel about his latest victory?" Harry froze as solid as the ice in his hair. So that's what Delf had been pointing at…

"That was amazing!" James' voice rang out over the pitch. "I couldn't have done better way back when I was Seeker on the Gryffindor team!" The Gryffindors cheered.

"You dad was Seeker when he went here?" Abigail whispered. Harry nodded, mute with shock. _What were they doing there?_

"Mrs. Potter, what about you?"

"I'm just astonished! I don't think my heart has started back up yet!" The crowded stadium laughed.

Through the haze of confusion, Harry saw Roderick looking at him worriedly, as if he thought he might explode if the wind blew wrong, and made an effort to compose his face.

"And what do you say, Harry? How's a 'hullo' for mum and dad, eh?" Damn Lee… Damn him. He needed time to process this. Harry stiffly raised his arm and made something resembling a wave.

"There we are, how nice. Harry, your parents will be waiting for you outside the changing rooms to say hello properly. In the meantime everyone, good match, wouldn't you say?" The crowd roared its approval.

Harry moved off to the changing room during Lee's closing comments, and his teammates followed after him, all but Roderick rather confused by his mood.

"Did you know they were coming to the match, Harry?" Cho asked as he took off his wrist guards and tossed them distractedly at his locker.

"No," he said shortly.

"You don't seem pleased," Chaz noted, pulling his jersey off.

"I'm just… I wasn't expecting them. Bit shocked."

There was the usual post-win banter after that, which he took no part in, sunk deep in confusion, distrust, and cautious, painful hope. By twos and threes, his friends went back to the castle and the party that was sure to be starting in the common room. Roderick looked at him as if to ask 'shall I stay?' but Harry waved for him to go with Roger.

Soon enough, he was alone in the changing room, but there was only so much he could stall, and he knew they'd be waiting.

The snow was blinding as he stepped outside, so at first he thought it was an optical illusion that there were four figures waiting for him just up the path. But no: his mum was there, and his dad; Tom had stuck around for some inexplicable reason, and Katie too. His stomach gave an odd little twist. Wasn't it sort of against the rules to meet your boyfriend's parents without him there?

His mother spotted him first: "Harry," she called, hurrying towards him and kissing his forehead. He accepted it stiffly, still not sure if he trusted what they were doing there.

"Excellent flying, really fantastic," James said proudly as Lily led Harry over, and his heart swelled without his permission. Katie moved close and put her arm around his waist. "When the Snitch moved I thought we were in for a good long chase, but you just grabbed it!" Tom was scowling at the ground jealously.

"Thanks," Harry replied faintly, feeling somewhat lightheaded between the shock of having them there and the pleasure of the praise.

"Harry, you haven't introduced me properly," Katie put in teasingly, nudging him in the side.

"Oh! Um, Mum, Dad, this is Katie Bell, my girlfriend. Katie, my Mum and Dad: Lily and James Potter."

"Nice to meet you," Katie said politely, shaking hands with each of them.

"Gryffindor and a Quidditch player: good taste," James commented, and winced when his wife swatted him. "A pleasure, young lady," was slightly more graceful.

"I wish we had known you would be playing today, Harry, or we would have brought the camera," Lily said regretfully, and Harry's careful pleasure shattered.

Harry felt rather than saw Katie looking between him and his parents. "You didn't know he was playing?" she asked, all innocent confusion.

"Well, we knew there was a Quidditch match, of course. After what almost happened to Tom, we wanted to be here to intervene if anything happened again," James explained to Katie, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"So you didn't come to see me," Harry said dully. He didn't know who he was angrier at: his parents for getting his hopes up, or himself for letting them.

"Well, if Tom had…" Lily seemed to sense that they had made a misstep, but it was too late to backtrack. "That is, we were very happy to learn we'd be seeing you, sweetheart, but we—"

"Stop." He cut his mother off unceremoniously. "I can't hear it right now." He turned and stomped along the trail up to the castle, ignoring his mother's calls for him to wait. Katie's arm had slipped from around his waist, but she had kept hold of his hand, and followed him as he moved away from his family. They had cheated! They had witnessed his joy, his embarrassment, his victory, and they deserved none of it. He was fuming at himself as well though: he ought to have known better. _Everything_ they did was for Tom, and it was stupid of him to have forgotten.

There was a great deal of noise coming from the Great Hall, stuffed full of excited students having lunch, but Harry ignored it and climbed the stairs to the rest of the school, and Katie followed. The corridors were dank and chill, and he bulled into the nearest classroom he found. Katie closed the door behind them and watched impassively as he kicked a desk over.

"You weren't quite telling the truth when we went to Hogsmeade, were you?" she said as Harry stopped kicking things and stood in the middle of the room with his fists clenched. "When you said that 'you love your mum and dad and Tom, but they really frustrate you sometimes'. You're more than frustrated."

He sighed heavily, reaching for his meditation training to calm him. It worked, but only slightly.

"...Yeah. I'm sorry you had to see that. I've gotten used to lying by omission when I talk about my family."

"Tell me," she suggested, hopping up to sit on a desk. Her eyes were wide and earnest, and he sighed again.

"I said Tom and I were raised differently, and that's true. But what I actually meant was, he gets Mum and Dad's attention, and I don't. He did learn to deal with stuff like the Crescent Gala and Chocolate Frog cards and all that nonsense, and I did learn to be independent, but a byproduct of that is that they don't know a damned thing about me. I wrote letters in first year. I told them I was in Ravenclaw. I told them how I became Seeker. I told them how odd it was having my god father be 'Professor Black' rather than 'Uncle Sirius'. My first letter back was a Christmas card. Dad assumed I was in Gryffindor till just this past summer. They didn't know I was on the team till Tom wrote a letter about it last year. It would be a lie to say I'm not bitter about it, because I very much am, but I had become used to it and built a life without them. It's just stupid when they come and act like real parents again because they haven't been that since I was seven. They've forgotten half my bloody—fucking…" He trailed off, coughing to try and clear the tightness in the back of his throat.

"What?" Katie prompted softly.

"Birthdays," he rasped. "They forget my birthday." He bowed his head, ashamed of the hold his sadness had on him.

He heard her scoot off the desk behind him and walk across the room. "You sound like you blame yourself."

"That's crazy," he mumbled.

"I know. I'm just saying what it sounds like." She stepped around him till they were face to face. Harry couldn't tell what she was thinking, like he would have been able to with Delf and Roderick, but her eyes were sympathetic.

"You probably don't want to hear this."

She frowned. "Not true. I want to know everything about you." And for the second time that day, she kissed him. She was hesitant, and Harry was too surprised to react for a moment, but then he kissed her back, and put his hands on her waist, and her arms went around his neck. This was different than kissing Lindsey. He had liked her well enough and certainly been attracted to her, but Katie cared about him, and he was starting to understand that stuff like kissing was just one way of showing that. He felt the edge of her jumper ride up a bit under his fingers, and experimentally slid his hand up under the fabric. She shivered: her skin was burning hot compared to his hands, which were still frigid from flying around so long. She didn't stop kissing him though, and he took this as a sign of encouragement and allowed his hands to slide along up her ribs. She smiled against his lips and pressed closer against him as his fingers found the bottom of her bra and—

"Harry? OH, _MERLIN_ —!"

Tom arrived.

Quicker than thinking, Harry had his wand out and was shouting _"Petrificus totalus!"_ Tom, caught in the act of trying to escape back into the hallway, promptly went stiff and fell on his face. Harry and Katie rushed across the room, and Harry rolled him over.

"Okay, you," he said, kneeling with one knee on his brother's chest and aiming his wand at his throat. "Yet again you have stumbled upon something I sincerely wish you hadn't. Remember when I threatened you when you saw my tattoo last year?" Tom didn't react, of course. "Well, this time I'm not going to sic the twins on you, and nothing as benign as hair-dye potions will be involved. If word of this gets out around school, I will personally find you, use this spell on you again, and stick you in the most disused, spider infested broom closet I can find in this place, and leave you there for a long, long time. Are we clear?" Tom didn't react again. "Good. _Rennervate."_ Tom barely looked any less frozen as the spell released him, but Harry was done. The threats were made. Now all there was to do was see if they stuck. Ignoring his brother completely, Harry took Katie's hand and went to see if they could find a more private space to take up where they'd been interrupted.

Two days later, on Monday, Harry ambushed Tom as he came out of History of Magic, dragged him up to the eighth floor, froze him, and left him in a very disused and spider-infested closet while he went to Care of Magical Creatures. The twins had come up to him during Transfiguration and made all sorts of extremely suggestive innuendoes concerning him and Katie. Apparently the threat hadn't stuck after all.

The very last Saturday before the winter holiday was a Hogsmeade visit.

"So wait, when did you and Athenias break up?" Harry asked as he, Roderick and Delf made their ways down to the front gates.

"More like they were never properly together," Delf corrected sullenly. She had been acting odd ever since the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor Quidditch match. Harry had assumed she was cross he had ignored her attempted warning that his parents were in the crowd, and was letting her get over it naturally. So far, there had been little improvement. This was partially responsible for him spending much more time with Katie recently.

"Well, yeah," Roderick agreed, breath misting in the freezing air. They were all bundled into thick cloaks and snow boots and hats and all the sweaters they owned. "She made it pretty clear she didn't want anything to do with me on the way back to the castle that day. Something about 'not being the gentleman she thought I was'. Rubbish. No one thinks I'm a gentleman."

"So are you and Delf just going together? You and Oliver are done, yeah?" he verified, leaning forward to look at her around Roderick.

"Yes," she said shortly.

"But we're not going together. I don't know why you keep thinking that. I've actually asked Helen," Roderick said, answering his first question.

"Oh. When did that happen?" Harry asked. He'd become somewhat out of the loop since beginning to date Katie properly.

"Yesterday after Defense. Since Lawrence and Beverley are going together, and Will just asked some girl from Hufflepuff, and Andrew can't go anymore, and Amanda and Kelly are thick as thieves right now, I sort of… felt bad for her."

"Ouch," said Harry. "Pity-dating."

"Don't tell her I said that," Roderick said sheepishly. "I mean… she's nice enough. Right?" This last was directed at Delf.

"She's alright," she replied reluctantly. "We sort of get on."

"Delf, why _do_ you hate all the girls in your dorm?" Harry asked as they came in sight of the gate.

"I just said Helen and I get on," she snapped. Her eyes flared orange and Harry dropped the subject like a hot coal.

Katie was waiting for him at the gate, as they had agreed over breakfast. Roderick went over to greet Helen, and as Harry and Katie made their way down the path, he saw Delf making half-hearted conversation with Fred and George. He felt bad that both he and Roderick had someone to go with besides her, but the twins would keep her occupied for the day.

The air was freezing, but he and Katie managed to have a pleasant time. They popped into a knick-knack shop and he got her a Christmas gift: a tiny statuette of a mouse that would sharpen a quill on its teeth when you said "cheese" along with a promise that she'd write to him when she was home for holiday. She got him a little wind-up figurine of a man playing Quidditch that flew around in circles till the clockwork ran down.

But it was too cold to stay out for long, and they soon retreated to the warmth of The Three Broomsticks. Roderick, Helen, Delf and Tracey had a table in the middle of the room, all mulling Butterbeers and listening to Helen.

"…strict Christians, so they send me to Bible camp every summer. They were very scared and disappointed after Professor McGonagall came to tell us because they think magic has something to do with the Devil and that I'm going to Hell."

Only Tracey looked like she really understood what Helen was saying: Delf and Roderick both had well-intentioned but blank expressions on.

"Hey," Harry said during a break. Everyone's heads jerked around. "Hello," Roderick and Tracey chorused while Delf said "Harry! Sit down!" He drew up chairs for him and Katie from a nearby table and set them between Tracey and Helen. He looped his arm over Katie's shoulder once they were seated, and smiled around the table.

"Where were you two?" Tracey asked casually.

"Here and there," Harry said evasively, sliding a glance at Katie, who giggled. They had snuck around the back of buildings several times for kissing purposes.

With mild alarm, Harry saw Delf's eyes become a low, smoldering orange.

"Did you see Oliver?" he asked concernedly.

"No, why?" she asked, confused.

"Your eyes are angry. I thought you might have run into him and he gave you a hard time."

Roderick sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Never mind," he said when Harry looked at him curiously.

-o-

"Dear, we've a letter from Tom!" Lily called to James that evening at Potter Manor.

"Oh, let's have it then."

_Dear Mum and Dad,_  
_I'm sorry to break your hearts, but I'm not coming home for Christmas._

"Oh, James, we've always had Tom for Christmas…. Harry hasn't been home for it in a while, but this is the first time he hasn't been home for it."

_Sorry I forgot to mention when you visited. It's just that I feel like I have to keep an eye on Harry._

"Uh-oh. I'm suddenly concerned for a whole different reason…"

_To my absolute horror, I accidentally walked in on him and Katie in an empty classroom after that Quidditch game you two surprised him by coming to. My innocent eyes were branded forever by the images of Kate in his lap with Harry's hand up her shirt._

"Is he serious?"

"Oh god," Lily moaned.

"Good job Harry!"

"JAMES!"

"Well, she's Gryffindor, isn't she?"

"That is NOT the point."

_I was mortified, of course, to see them snogging and necking all over each other like that,_

"Well, yeah," James muttered, who had had a couple similar experiences involving Sirius and various girls in his youth.

"And she seemed so respectable…" Lily muttered.

"She may straighten him out," James suggested.

_so I left as quickly as I could._

"I should hope so!" Lily sounded mortified.

_I don't think they saw me, but I really think you guys should be aware of what he's doing behind your backs. I'll keep an eye on him for you though, don't worry.  
Love, Tom_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW, JAMES WAS A CHASER IN CANON, YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL ME. Just add it to the list of things I changed, along with him, you know, surviving.
> 
> Anyway, this is the first instance where Harry really opens up to someone properly about how he feels about how his parents treat him. I like that it's with Katie rather than Roderick or Delf or someone he's already close to, for one because it gives their relationship a solid base, and two, because it's often easier to explain a situation to someone when they don't have any previous information about it. So that's where we were coming from with that.
> 
> Also, the fic is now being posted on AO3! It's on my friend fire1's account, same title, so if you're more active over there, go give it some love! :)
> 
> Chapter 12, "Promises Kept", goes up next Saturday!
> 
> Half credit for this story goes to my friend fire1: we developed and outlined this idea together and there's no way it would exist without her. Go check her page out!
> 
> All characters are owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros, etc.
> 
> E.I. signing out


	12. Promises Kept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are almost caught up with FF.net. sorry only once chapter this week.  
> fire1-

_Promises Kept_

Winter holiday began with misguiding quietude. Ravenclaw Tower was near-empty: most students had gone home because of all the people (and ghosts, and cats) getting Petrified. The only ones left in their House were their trio, Abigail and Roger, Terry Boot from Tom's year, seventh year Prefect Matthew Chambers, fifth year Prefect Jean Silk, and about a half-dozen others. Delf got a very cross letter from Maria on Christmas Eve morning about what a terror Dwight was, which she took great pleasure in reading aloud over breakfast.

"…fed her best knickers to the garden gnomes," she read, spluttering over her cereal. "I'm going to frame this!" Harry grinned. Delf was in a better mood since holiday started than she had been since the year began. He hoped that whatever had had her in such a terrible temper would leave her alone once term started again.

They spent the day mostly in the common room, sharing stories of the past term that one or both of the others had somehow missed, such as Roderick getting his finger stuck in the ink pot during Muggle Studies, and laughing a great deal. Harry's latest Quidditch victory was replayed by Roderick, not once, or twice, but three times, each clumsy somersault and flip mimicked with loving detail, and he only seemed to think it got funnier. They were up late into the night, talking of everything from Lockheart to Hogsmeade to siblings to prank ideas to wand lore.

But in no time at all, it seemed, it was nearly 1 in the morning, so they all stumbled off to bed, wishing each other sleepy happy Christmases.

Christmas dawn was thin and freezing, but for Harry it was cheerful and joyous nonetheless. He woke Roderick at what Roderick called an 'absolutely illegal' hour, but Harry led the way out of their dorm, across the common room, and up to Delf's with perfectly blithe good humor. He knew better than to charge right into the girls' dorm, of course. It was common knowledge that if a boy placed his hand on a girls' dorm's doorknob, he'd be frozen much as Harry had frozen Tom after he'd barged in on him and Katie. The only way to lift the enchantment was to get a girl to say your name three times. This often didn't happen very fast, since the girls had a good time laughing at the would-be interloper.

So instead, he and Roderick spent several minutes banging loudly on the fourth year girls' door, shouting for Delf, who opened it looking very groggy with her hair and pajamas askew.

"What?" she mumbled, rubbing neutral brown eyes.

"It's Christmas!" Harry cried, and threw his arms around her in a big bear hug.

Her eyes were green and gold with happy excitement by the time he let go and dragged her and Roderick down the stairs to the common room again. Last Christmas with Cho had been nice and all, but he had missed his friends quite a lot, and was more than pleased to have them with him over the holidays.

Their piles of gifts were stacked up around the fireplace under the boys' dorms, and they set to the task of opening them with childish glee. His parents had remembered Christmas, just like last year, and Harry was moderately surprised to find a rather nice broom care kit and a note saying _'For the next time you crash'_. Roderick thought it was hilarious, but Delf's eyes sparked orange and said they were being too familiar. Delf had gotten him a very nice stationary set, claiming he hadn't written nearly enough the previous summer while he'd been in Ireland, while Roderick again begged poor before presenting him with a slim book on the history of dueling. Harry grinned and said he'd go right ahead and start his own dueling club to replace Lockheart's canceled one.

The day passed pleasantly: they spent most of it in the common room playing wizard's chess and Exploding Snaps until it was time for supper. They sat with Roger and Abigail, so of course the conversation centered mainly on Quidditch (Delf yawned conspicuously a number of times: the last time, Roderick flicked a pea in her mouth, to the amusement of all except the victim). Abigail got involved with detailing a number of complicated plays, even going so far as to draw rough diagrams on the table with gravy and pudding, and before they knew it, they were the very last ones left in the Hall. Dessert had long disappeared when they all got up and headed out of the Hall, laughing and jostling each other. To their surprise, they weren't alone in the Entry Hall: those two boys who always hung on to Draco, Crabbe and Goyle, were standing about looking even more gormless than usual.

"Tell Draco happy Christmas and that he's a prat for me when you see him, would you?" Roderick said cheerfully as the Ravenclaws made the way to the stairs.

The boys glanced at each other and shifted from foot to foot nervously. Harry looked at them curiously. Crabbe and Goyle were not known for their intelligence by any stretch of the imagination, but they weren't known for being cowed by older students either.

"Your dorms are that way," he told them sarcastically, pointing down the passage to the dungeons. Instead of the sullen stares and laughable come-backs he was expecting, the two young Slytherins only looked nervous and lumbered off down the hall. The five Ravenclaws gazed after them in puzzlement.

"Did they seem more stupid than usual to you?" Harry finally asked. His friends laughed and they all trouped upstairs to bed.

The next day, they made their weekly trip to check up on the Polyjuice Potion, as they had been doing since discovering the stuff before holiday started. Instead of the burbling pus-coloured sludge they expected, however, all the apparatus was gone, and the toilet and floor bore every sign of having been cleaned out hastily.

"Quick," said Harry. "They've used it. Have there been any inexplicable disappearances recently?"

"Someone spilled lacewing fly wings all over and didn't sweep up," Delf noted disdainfully. "That was shoddy."

Roderick scuffed through a puddle. "Can we go to lunch already? I'm starved."

Just then, a ghost of a young girl in Hogwarts robes popped out of a toilet and gazed out at them through thick-lensed spectacles.

"Oh… hello Myrtle," Delf said carefully. "We didn't mean to disturb you… We won't be a moment, so you can go back to…whatever you were doing, if you like."

Harry and Roderick exchanged glances. Delf had explained to them about how this particular loo 'belonged' to Moaning Myrtle, but by some stroke of fate, they had avoided meeting her till that point.

"Oh, I see," the ghost snapped. "'Go about what you were doing, Myrtle!' I know what you mean: you hate me! At least the other three didn't chase me off!" She let loose an ear-piercing wail and began to fade back into the wall.

"Wait!" said Harry, reaching out to her before remembering she was a ghost. "'The other three…' then, you must have seen my brother and Ron and Hermione working, right? Did you see who they turned into?"

"Then you're Harry Potter, are you?" The girl sniffed. "You _are_ rather handsome. The girls used to talk about you before they stopped coming in here." Harry shifted uncomfortably. Delf crossed her arms. "I don't know who they turned into… two other boys in the school, I suppose." She suddenly burst out cackling. "But the _girl!_ She got the ears and tail and _everything!_ I haven't laughed so hard since Margery Silver slipped and broke her wrist here fifteen years ago!"

"Excuse me?" Roderick said incredulously.

"She got _what?"_ Harry asked.

"I know!" Myrtle shrieked gleefully, soaring up to float upside down near the ceiling.

"We need to go find them," Harry said seriously. His friends nodded. "Myrtle, thank you for what you've told us."

"Come back soon, Harry," she crooned, wiggling her fingers at him. Harry left hurriedly, and Delf and Roderick came after.

Roderick was chuckling to himself: "Come back soon, Harry," he mimicked. "Heheheh, handsome…"

"I'm glad you find it so amusing that I'm attractive to dead people," Harry said loudly. "But we need to find Ron and my brother right now."

"Was that them who just went into the Great Hall?" Delf asked, pointing toward the large doors as they came out of the passage way.

They hurried forward, and yes indeed, there were Tom and Ron making their ways down either side of Gryffindor Table. "Delf, you get Ron," Harry said, entering the Hall. "Come on, Roderick." They split up and hurried down the aisles after the boys. Harry and Roderick grabbed Tom by the biceps and lifted him bodily off the ground; across the table, Delf was twisting Ron's ear and dragging him back towards the door. Both Gryffindors put up a steady stream of complaints and abuse and threats till they were released in a dim corner of the Entry Hall. Tom huffily straightened his glasses while Ron rubbed his ear and glared at Delf resentfully.

"What do you want, Harry?" Tom demanded.

"So where's Hermione?" Harry asked casually, crossing his arms. He was pleased to think that he and Delf and Roderick must look very imposing, looming over the young Gryffindors as they were.

"Nowhere," Tom answered, just as Ron said "The Library."

"Wrong," Roderick told Ron.

"And wrong," Delf said to Tom.

"Good start," Harry said dryly. "Now, remind me again why she has a tail?"

"How do you know?" Tom asked just as Ron said "She doesn't." The boys glared at each other.

"That was well done," Roderick said to Delf, who nodded agreement, as if commenting on a dramatic production.

"Okay," Harry sighed. "Enough nonsense. Something went wrong with the potion, obviously, and I don't really care what. But why did you need Polyjuice Potion anyway? Tom, this is one of my questions."

Tom and Ron glanced at each other: Ron shook his head almost imperceptibly. Tom sighed. "I _promised_ him, Ron. I have to." Harry inwardly rolled his eyes. _Gryffindor honor, really…_

Tom took a deep breath. "Well, it all started because we knew that the Heir of Slytherin had to be at the school because the Chamber of Secrets is opened again. He wrote on the wall and he's been Petrifying everyone. So, we had to turn into Slytherins to get into their common room and sniff about. We thought—" Ron jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow and Tom fell silent, biting his lip.

Harry waved for him to continue. "Yes, you claimed you were somehow 'thinking'…"

Tom glanced at Roderick, obviously extremely uncomfortable, before gesturing for Harry to lean in, which he obliged him in doing. Tom whispered in his ear for a few seconds, and then Harry stood up straight again.

"Draco Malfoy is not the Heir of Slytherin," he said flatly. Roderick looked startled for a moment, and then burst out laughing.

"But it all makes sense!" Tom protested. "The Chamber was opened fifty years ago last time, wasn't it? Mr. Malfoy could have done it then, and given the key to Draco and he's doing it now!"

"First of all—ha ha!—my dad isn't old enough to have done that." Roderick wiped a tear from his eye. "Draco is no more the epitome of evil that you are the epitome of goodness and justice. Thanks though: that was even funnier than Harry snogging a ghost."

"Snogging—!" Harry began furiously, but Tom drowned him out.

"I knew we shouldn't have told you! You're stuck up and think we don't know anything because we're Gryffindors! Well, we do know some things! And you can't stop us! You're a disgrace to the Potter name, Harry!" And with that, he and Ron took off sprinting up the main stairs.

"I wonder what that's got to do with anything," Harry murmured as they wandered back into the Great Hall to see if lunch was still on.

"Probably more to do with my 'epitome of goodness and justice' comment. He didn't seem to take that well."

"Well, bully for him," Delf snapped. "It was true. And they really _don't_ know anything."

"No arguments there," Harry agreed.

New Years passed without any important parts of the castle exploding, though there were reports of certain twins setting off sparklers in the dungeons. Roderick stole some Butterbeer from the kitchens, and they rung in the new year in high good humor.

The rest of the school was due to arrive back a few days later, and Harry was eagerly waiting to greet Katie at the front gates. They had exchanged letters over the holiday, of course, but Harry liked having her there in person.

He waved as she got out of the horseless carriage, followed by Alicia and Angelina. She spotted him and grinned and ran up the lawn to throw her arms around him.

"I missed you," she mumbled into his shoulder. He smiled and kissed the side of her head, ignoring Angelina and Alicia, who were giggling at them a small distance off.

They walked back up to the castle together with their arms around each other's waists. The train had delivered them in perfect time for supper, and the Great Hall was redolent with the shouts and laughter of friends reunited. Harry sat with the Gryffindors again, earning cat-calls and whistles from many of his friends. After all, Roderick was sitting with Helen, and Delf was talking to Andrew, Lawrence, and Will. Dinner was fun and boisterous (though Tom glared at him non-stop till the end of the meal), but Delf seemed rather subdued as the Ravenclaws headed up for their Tower, and split off to the girls' dorm without saying goodnight. Harry decided to keep a very strict eye on Oliver.

The following weekend, Harry, Roderick, Delf, Tracey and the Weasley twins were finishing up a mid-afternoon raid on the kitchens (which was really less a raid than a social visit).

"I like those elves more and more every time we go down," Roderick declared, licking his fingers clean of creamy pastry filling.

"Agreed," Fred and George chorused.

"You only like them because they don't yell at you like your mum when you eat dessert at three in the afternoon," Tracey accused.

"So?" said Fred.

"You say that like it's a bad reason to like them," said George.

Harry chortled.

They emerged in an alcove just off the Entry Hall and nearly literally tripped over Lee Jordan.

"There you are!" he exclaimed, disentangling himself from the Weasleys and Delf. "I've got something to show you: come on!"

"Bye!" Fred and George said together, and took off up the stairs after their friend.

Tracey chuckled. "They really never sit still, do they?"

"Nope," Roderick agreed. "But I suppose that's why we like them, right?"

"If you say so," Delf muttered. They all laughed.

"Hey, Trace, do you want to meet us in the Library in fifteen minutes to do that Transfiguration essay?" Roderick asked. "We had the rest of the day reserved for it. Have you started yet?"

"Of course not," she scoffed. "I'll go get my things. See you in a few." She trotted off down the hallway towards the Slytherin's dungeon dorms.

"We didn't have plans to do the Transfiguration essay today," Delf said suspiciously as they followed the twins' path up the main stairs.

"Er… didn't we?" Roderick asked. His face was an unusual shade of pink. Harry smirked. Roderick was so obvious.

_"So hungry… so long… bite, crush, KILL!"_

Harry stopped in his tracks so suddenly that Delf bounced off his back. "There!" he said. "Did you hear it? In the wall?" The other two looked blank.

_"Eat… so long… so hungry…"_

"The voice!" he insisted, pushing past them and rushing back down the way they'd come. It grew fainter and fainter even as he sprinted after it, but it was definitely leading him down, back into the Entry Hall again, through a passage, down three flights of stairs, around corner—

"Tracey!" Delf gasped. They stumbled to a halt. Harry hadn't realized it while they'd been running, but the voice had led them directly along the path to the Slytherin dorms. Tracey lay on the floor halfway down the hallway next to one of several glass-fronted trophy cases that lined the walls, no moving. She was Petrified.

"Tracey…" Roderick breathed, his eyes so wide that white showed all the way around the grey.

"No," Harry muttered. "No, no, no…"

"What's going on here?" an irritated voice demanded from behind them. They all spun about, startled. Snape stood at the end of the hall, imposing and disapproving. "You three… I shouldn't have to remind you that running in the hall is against the rules, should I?"

"Tracey's been Petrified!" Delf cut in loudly, pointing behind them to their friend's prone form. The Potion's Master's eyes widened, but then his brows descended to complete a scowl.

"Move aside," he said curtly, brushing past them and kneeling next to his student. He touched her neck, muttered a few words, then sighed and stood up. Harry heard him murmur "Wingardium leviosa," and Tracey floated gently into the air. Snape waved his wand again and she drifted along through the air behind him.

"Come with me," he ordered. Harry, Delf and Roderick fell meekly in behind him, Roderick hovering close behind Tracey. Harry couldn't seem to wrap his head around the situation: they had seen Tracey not five minutes before as her usual vivacious self. How could things have changed so fast? And what did the damned bloody voice have to do with it?

Snape led them smartly along to the Infirmary, where Madam Pomfrey seemed disappointed and resigned, but not surprised, to see them.

"Another? Very well… Put her down there, Severus. I'll get another curtain. You had better go see the Headmaster."

"May we stay?" Roderick asked. His normally pallid face was the colour of porridge. Delf seemed a little bit nauseous as she looked down at her unmoving friend. Madam Pomfrey looked at them sympathetically and nodded.

They gathered silently around her bed, none willing yet to speak. Her expression was similar to the other Petrification victims': shock mixed with terror. Madam Pomfrey wheeled a curtain over and placed it around them and the bed.

"What's doing this?" Delf finally murmured. "What could possibly be doing this?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. I wish I knew what the voice meant."

"The voice!" Roderick's head jerked up. "You heard it again, that's right! What was it saying?"

"The same thing as last time," Harry explained. "It was hungry. It wanted to go 'bite and crush and kill and eat' something. Are you sure you didn't hear anything?"

The other two shook their heads. "Delf and I were bickering about the Transfiguration essay and then you just… took off," Roderick replied.

"We do believe you," Delf hastened to assure him. "We just… didn't hear it."

"So I'm just hearing a voice that… wasn't there?" Delf shrugged helpless assent. Harry wasn't quite sure whether to be angry or perplexed. He had heard it plain as day. What was wrong with them? Or was it, what was wrong with _him?_

"Well, hold on…" Roderick said slowly. "There are things Harry understands that we don't, Delf."

"What are you saying? We're just as smart as Harry!" Delf protested sharply.

"No, wait…" Harry was so relieved to have a plausible answer that he actually smiled. "He means snakes."

Delf blinked. "Oh."

Harry had told them both about the incident with the garden snake when he was nine: stepping on it, and then apologizing, and having it reply. Later that very day, in fact, at Delf's house. Together with Master Jerome, they had agreed to keep it an utter secret. Things like that made people nervous.

"Out, boys," Madam Pomfrey said, bustling over. "I'm putting her in pajamas."

Harry and Roderick dutifully exited the curtained space, leaving Delf to help the healer.

"Last time one of us was putting night clothes on in here, you nearly died laughing," Harry said, trying desperately to lessen Roderick's aggrieved expression. It didn't work.

Madam Pomfrey drew the curtains back and moved off, letting the three Ravenclaws congregate again.

"We need to figure out what's going on," Delf said softly, as if Tracey was only asleep and she didn't want to wake her.

Roderick nodded dully. "Yeah."

"We should go to the Library and see what we can find out," Delf prompted.

Roderick nodded again, but didn't otherwise respond.

"We need to _go_ —" Delf said again, but Harry stuck his hand in front of her mouth and shut her up.

"You can join us later," Harry said firmly, taking Delf's hand and leading her towards the door. "Honestly, I thought you girls were supposed to be sensitive about this stuff," he hissed as they hurried down the corridor together. "Can't you tell he likes her? He's practically sobbing at her bedside."

"And how many times do you think _I've—_ " She didn't finish the sentence, but nor did she argue back, so Harry let it drop. As they neared the landing for the main stairs, Tom and Ron nearly bowled them over. The bottoms of their trousers were soaking wet, and Tom had that particular secretive, self-important look about him. He held a small book bound in black leather in both hands. It dripped water on the floor.

"Oi," said Harry listlessly. "You'll kill someone doing that."

"Sure," Tom scoffed. "Whatever."

Harry's eye sharpened at his brother's tone. "What've you got?" he asked, pointing at the book Tom held. It looked somehow familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

"Nothing," Tom retorted loudly. "It's mine! I found it." He shifted his grip and Harry saw a few words picked out in gold along the bottom edge: Tom - v- - - P- - -. Or R? No, that didn't make sense. 'Tom Evans Potter'. He'd had it engraved. How nice.

"Ok, whatever," he shrugged it off. "Go about your business." Tom and Ron scuttled off furtively.

"Do you think they're up to something?" Delf asked quietly once the younger students had turned a corner.

"When are they not?" Harry replied, already forgetting the incident.

They didn't speak again till they got to the Library, where they whispered to meet up at a small table in the back when they thought they had some useful books.

Harry searched through the bestiary section, forcefully reminded of the previous year when they'd gone looking for the properties of unicorn blood. He hoped this year wouldn't end quite so dramatically, but somehow, he didn't have high hopes.

They met up at a table under a window, each plopping their stack down and staring dejectedly at the pile of work before them.

"Okay," Harry said reluctantly. "Let's each take half. We're looking for snakes that can Petrify people. Don't take notes."

"Well, actually, Harry, if you think about it…" Delf sounded oddly hesitant. "All we know is that the voice – the snake, if we've deduced right – is _nearby_ when people get Petrified. We don't know that it's actually doing it."

Harry huffed a sigh. They hadn't even started and he was tired. "True," he admitted. "But if we leave that part out, we're left with 'snakes that Harry can hear', and that's all of them. Petrification is the only defining feature we know of."

"Good point," she allowed. "But…" Harry groaned. "No, listen! I admit I'm no expert on snakes, but I've never heard of one that can Petrify people, have you?" When he shook his head, she went on. "No, and it seems that if the teachers knew, they'd have let us know what to watch out for. So we have to assume this thing is either really rare, or that it's not acting in a natural way... I had a thought earlier, and I know it sounds bizarre, but what if... what if it's a ghost? You say you heard it from inside the walls, didn't you? How else would that make sense?"

The strangeness of the idea forestalled Harry from automatically ruling it out. Could it be true? It explained the odd bits that didn't add up, he had to admit... "Okay, so do we research abilities that ghosts can have after this? And see if we can triangulate anything plausible?"

"I suppose that would make sense... But we've such a stack already, let's not give Madam Pince an aneurysm by taking any more books."

"Yes, you're right. I'll take these first." She slid half of one stack towards herself, and flipped the top one open. Harry followed suit.

Four hours later, Harry almost felt as if he was Petrified himself. His neck was one big knot, his feet had been asleep for ages, and his eyes were raw and scratchy from reading so long in fading light.

So when Katie arrived, she was a more than welcome distraction.

"There you are," she said, coming up behind him and slipping her arms around his shoulders. "Figures you would be here. I should have checked hours ago. I missed you at supper."

"Katie, hi," he said warmly. "Damn, did we really miss supper already? And have I really not seen you all day?"

"No. And whose fault is _that_ , may I ask?"

Harry laughed and craned his head around to kiss her on the cheek. "Sorry. I've been cooped up here all day."

"I forgive you," she replied, giggling.

Delf began gathering up the books they'd spread across the table and stacking them up in rather haphazard order.

"So are you done here?" Katie wanted to know. "I was thinking we could sneak away for a bit…"

Next to Harry, Delf seemed to go very still. He glanced at her in consternation, then looked back at Katie when nothing was visibly wrong.

"You know I would say 'yes' in a heartbeat if everything was normal, but… we found my friend Tracey just after she got Petrified earlier, and I don't want to take the risk and have anyone else walking around alone. Delf and I could walk you back to Gryffindor Tower though."

"Tracey got Petrified?" Katie repeated, stunned. "But isn't she in Slytherin?"

"Apparently Houses aren't very important to whatever's attacking," Delf said coldly.

"God, I'm so sorry," Katie said, putting her hand on Harry's arm.

"Harry, could you do something useful and help me put these away?" Delf asked abruptly, shoving several books at him. He caught them awkwardly, puzzled by her sudden change in temperament. But temperament changes or not, they still had the books put away in no time at all, and Katie made gentle fun of them for knowing their way around the Library so well.

"The Library is an important resource," Delf retorted waspishly. "It's better to know it intimately and not need it than need it and fumble around for hours looking for one book."

Harry frowned at her. If he or Roderick had been the one poking fun at how well they knew the Library, he could think of several dozen things she might have said, none of them rude. Something was definitely bothering her.

A moment of awkward silence passed.

"I just can't believe Tracey got Petrified," Katie finally said. She and Delf and Harry were wending their way up a staircase that led to Gryffindor Tower. "It must have been so shocking to find her like that."

"Yes, we were all very disturbed. We're all such good friends with her. Especially Harry."

"Don't you mean Roder—"

"Harry is the one who introduced her to me and Roderick. Did you know that?"

"Um… no, I didn't," Katie said. Harry glanced between the two girls, sensing subtext but unable to decipher it.

"Yes. Of the three of us, I'd say Harry is the closest with her."

"Now that's not specifically—"

"You were the one who made a point to get to know her in second year, weren't you?"

He looked desperately between Katie and Delf, one confused, the other cold and furious. What had he done? "Well, yes—"

"You make a point of reuniting over summer at the same time, don't you?"

"But that's for the Muggle—"

"You spend time with her, make an effort to please her, and you make each other laugh, right?"

"Delf!" She stared at him defiantly, her eyes simmering a dangerous orange. But for once he didn't back down from them: "You say that like it's something special. We all see each other over summer. I spend time with all of my friends, you and Roderick most of all. And a lot of people make me laugh. What's your problem?"

She held his gaze for a few seconds more, and then turned on her heel and fled down the corridor.

"Delf, wait!" he shouted. "You shouldn't be alone!" But she was gone. He turned back to Katie, who looked just as confused as he felt. "I'm sorry about that," he said. "I'm not really sure what just happened. I think she must be more concerned about Tracey than I'd realized."

She nodded. "Of course. I would be too if it were Angelina or Alicia."

He smiled at her and kissed her forehead. "Thanks for understanding."

The next day was Monday, so Harry and Roderick had Care of Magical Creatures first thing in the morning. Even bundled up in cloaks and sweaters and scarves and gloves, the mid-January wind whistled through them like knives, and Harry wanted nothing more than to go back to the castle and thaw out in History of Magic. Roderick still had not recovered to his usual self, and stayed quiet and withdrawn throughout class.

They were trudging back up to the castle with Professor Kettleburn in the lead when they crossed paths with a gaggle of second year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs on their way down to Herbology. The professors stopped to chat, and Harry mourned the disappearance of his passing period.

"Harry!" Tom's voice rang out from the crowd and Harry groaned. He sounded excited about something. Nothing good ever happened when Tom was excited about something. "I've got to ask," the boy said breathlessly, hazel eyes shining behind his spectacles. "Are you two-timing on Katie with, um, you know, Green—you know, the girl you're always with?"

Harry stared at him incredulously. "Do you mean Daphne?"

"Yeah! Her!"

"NO!" Harry shouted, but by then the teachers were done with their gossip and started off their respective ways.

"Okay, just wondering! Bye!" Tom called, waving over his shoulder as he and his classmates headed off down to the greenhouses.

"That buggering…" Harry grumbled, but then he noticed Roderick, sitting on the ground nearby, laughing so hard he wasn't even making any sound. Hoping the scowl he put on was suitably ferocious, he muttered, "Yeah, yeah, very funny. Come on, we'll be late to History of Magic."

Several weeks passed, and Harry, Delf and Roderick spent more time in the Library than was strictly healthy, according to their Gryffindor friends. They persisted in having no luck finding a snake that could Petrify people, nor any ability that would let a ghost do something of that type, but Harry was fairly sure that he could write a 100 inch essay on either subject in general at the drop of a hat. Roderick took to researching Parstletongue in and of itself, wondering if it were possible for people with the ability to hear more than the one kind of reptile, but information of that variety proved scarce as well. They were constantly pestering professors to sign slips for the Restricted Area, and it usually wound up being Lockheart, which meant that one of them had to stand about for twenty minutes afterwards, listening to him ramble and mentally decaying.

Katie became used to finding him in the library, and Harry was constantly torn between feeling obligated to stay and research and the feeling that he was neglecting her. He wound up going with her a little under half the time, but always wound up apologizing profusely to one side or the other. All in all, it wasn't a particularly easy time. He tried meditating more, but that only gave him extra time to stew on his problems and did nothing towards solving them.

-o-

One drizzly Friday in March, they were down having a late supper in the Great Hall, each of them with a short stack of books supporting bowls of stew, none of them paying much attention to the food or the reading material. They'd been up most of the night (except Roderick, who went to bed at only midnight, the prat), doing Potions and Ancient Runes homework, and now they were paying. Harry yawned and scrubbed his eyes, trying to make the page stop blurring in and out of focus.

"Oi! Harry!" Harry blinked up as Fred, George, and Lee Jordan came hurrying along the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. "Have you heard?"

"That depends," Harry replied, summoning something resembling wit. "What is it?"

"Tom's dorm has been ransacked!"

"What!" He lurched up from the table, nearly knocking over a pitcher of milk.

"Come on," George said, and Harry hurried out after the trio of Gryffindors.

"I'll catch up with you later," he called over his shoulder to Delf and Roderick, still at the table surrounded by books. Roderick waved him out.

"What happened?" Harry demanded as they dashed up the main stairs.

"We don't know! We'd just got in from Quidditch practice and gone up looking for Ron, and the place was a mess," Fred replied. "Neville should be bringing him and Tom back from seeing Hermione now."

"He wasn't there then?"

"No: as far as anyone knows, the dorm was empty," Lee said breathlessly.

That was one thing less to worry about. When he'd first heard, his instinctive fear was that someone was trying to hurt Tom. But why would someone go to all the trouble to pillage Tom's things?

His stomach dropped: the Cloak…

The twins and Lee had him hide around the corner when they went to give the Fat Lady the password, and she squawked indignantly when he dashed out and scrambled through. The twins and Lee pushed him up the stairs and smashed the door open (Harry had to think they were enjoying the drama more than was strictly necessary). Tom, Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus stood around the room, each looking more gob-smacked than the next. Tom's things lay strewn all across the floor: his bed sheets had been ripped off and his trunk overturned. Books and clothes lay in intermingled disarray from the windows to right in front of his feet.

"Alright, you lot, out you go!" Fred blared. "Harry Potter has arrived on the scene and wants to interrogate his brother! Come on, come on!"

Neville, Dean and Seamus shuffled obediently out the door, but Ron remained till Harry jerked a thumb at the door. "You too," he said. "Go with your brothers."

"But I'm his best friend!" he protested, flushing angrily.

"And I'm his elder brother. Go."

He stamped out, glaring furiously the whole way. The door swung shut. Harry waved his wand and murmured a quick _muffalito_.

"What happened?" he demanded as Tom fell to his knees and began scrabbling around through the detritus. "Who did this?"

"I don't know, Harry. Just shut up for a second!" Tom replied hotly.

"I knew Dad shouldn't have given it to you," Harry groaned. "Even without me being older, you're just flat-out irresponsible. AND you're always a target! Did you know I thought someone had tried to assassinate you when the twins told me what happened? How could you just leave it around willy-nilly for anyone to find? How stupid can you _be?"_

"I know what's missing," Tom said, sitting back on his heels.

"The Cloak?" Harry demanded.

"What? No," Tom replied, as if Harry was a dense child. "The diary's gone!"

Harry's panic evaporated. "Ooohh…" he said slowly. "I see. One of the girls snuck in and stole your _diary_ , is it? Afraid all your deep, dark little secrets will be as famous as you now? For Merlin's sake, I was so worried…"

"No, you don't understand!" Tom cried desperately. "There was nothing in it!"

Harry was at a loss. _"Then what's the bloody problem!?"_

Tom's look was suddenly evasive. "Nothing."

"Tom." He folded his arms. "You promised. What's so special about the diary?"

Tom gave a piteous groan, but then his resolve broke, and it all came tumbling out: "Well, it all started that day when we ran into each other and you asked what I had and it was the diary only I didn't tell you, but that's what it was. I found it in the bathroom and Myrtle said someone threw it at her, so it wasn't anyone's really, it was mine, but there was nothing in it, so I wrote in it. I wrote 'my name is Tom Potter' and it wrote back and—"

"Stop! Stop, stop. Tom, no. Sentient books? We barely have those in the Restricted Section!" He sank down onto a nearby bed and waved for his brother to continue.

"And it wrote back and said it was Tom _Riddle_ and that it knew about what happened last time with the Chamber of Secrets and he showed me a vision, and it was _Hagrid, Harry!_ It was Hagrid who did it before! And now someone's taken it!" He finally stopped to catch his breath.

Harry, for his part, wasn't quite sure what to think. Hagrid? The Chamber of Secrets? A _conscious book?_

"Well," he finally said. "That sounds like something you never should have had in the first place." Tom scowled at him. "You clean all this up: I'm sure your dorm-mates don't want to be tripping over everything when they're changing for bed." He canceled the muffling charm and made his way back downstairs, shaking his head at himself. Honestly, the ratio of times Tom had gotten into trouble on his own versus the number of times someone had actually tried to do him harm at Hogwarts should have alerted him before he went running off blind with worry after the twins. Tom was fine. And if he had any say in it, Tom would always be fine, useless prat that he was. Hagrid opening the Chamber of Secrets indeed… Harry knew for a fact that Aragog had more to do with that than any made up clubhouse.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the portrait was just swinging open, admitting Alicia and Angelina, with Katie bringing up the rear. Her eyes lit up when she saw Harry, and he smiled to see her too. They hadn't been spending enough time together recently. Between the fourth-year work load, Quidditch practice for both of them, and Harry spending every spare moment in the Library researching snakes, he hadn't left much time available to spend with his girlfriend.

They selected a secluded corner, away from the business and noise of the common room-proper and set about making up for lost time.

"I've missed spending time with you like this," Katie confessed some time later on. They were nestled in one of those over-stuffed arm chairs the Gryffindor common room seemed so full of. "I feel like I haven't had you to myself in ages."

"I know what you mean," he replied, nuzzling her shoulder. "And even before, it was always either the twins or Colin Creevey finding us."

She giggled at the memory. "He took pictures and we chased him down and ruined his film, that's right." She sighed. "I hope the Mandrakes are ready soon. The whole school feels so on-edge all the time…"

"I know," he agreed. "I didn't even realize how nervous I was till Tom got burgled earlier."

"Your brother got _burgled?"_ she exclaimed, brown eyes going wide.

"Yeah, haven't you heard? Oh, I suppose you'd have been at Astronomy. The twins came rushing down and found me at dinner, and made it sound so catastrophic that I thought someone had tried to kill him or something, so I came racing up here as fast as I could, only for him to tell me his damned diary had gone missing."

She drew idle circles on the arm of their chair. "You came all the way up here only to see Tom?"

"Yeah. Mental, right?"

"Mm-hm."

He left shortly afterwards, telling her to get a good night's rest for the match the next day.

"I'll be cheering for you," he told her at the portrait hole, and kissed her goodnight. He didn't hear the Fat Lady swing shut till he was halfway down the corridor.

The next day was the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match. The clouds hung low in the sky, but managed not to rain. Harry, Roderick and Delf slogged down to the pitch with Cedric.

"Hope you don't mind I'll be cheering for the opposition," Harry said cheerfully.

"I would mind if you cheering one way or the other had anything to do with us winning," the Hufflepuff replied dryly. Roderick laughed. Delf scowled. Delf had been doing a lot of scowling lately, and so far Harry had not been able to ferret out the reason.

When they got down the pitch, however, there was a great milling crowd washing about at the foot of the stands rather than going up to get seats.

"What's going on?" Cedric wondered as they drew near. Harry was equally mystified.

"They've canceled the game!" Fred and George cried as they fought their way through the throng to stand with their friends.

"What?" gasped Cedric.

"Why?" Harry demanded.

"They won't say, but McGonagall just pulled Tom, Ron and Percy away. Look." Fred pointed over their shoulders and they turned to see the professor leading the trio of Gryffindors back up to the castle at a fast pace.

"Percy?" Roderick sounded confused. "I would understand if it was just the other two, but Percy's a Prefect."

"And a stickler for the rules," George added.

"All students are to return to their dormitories!" Snape was heard to shout over the hubbub of the crowd. _"Immediately!"_

"Uh-oh," Roderick murmured. "When he gets _that_ tone, someone's about to be sent to detention."

Like one enormous animal, the mob turned and began the trudge back up the hill. Harry, Delf, Roderick, Cedric, Fred and George were at the forefront, thereby avoiding getting squashed by the throng.

Cedric split off to lead the Hufflepuffs down to their basement dorms, while Harry's group and the twins trekked up and up and up through the castle to their respective towers.

"What does the wind whisper?" the knocker wanted to know.

"Secrets none of us may know," Harry replied, hoping it wouldn't count as a cop-out answer. But the door swung open, and the rest of the House followed him in. Many people went straight up to their dorms, but most stayed out in the common room to talk.

A group of sixth year girls were amongst the last to come in. Three of them supported the last girl, Beth Morgan, who seemed to be crying rather hard. Matthew Chambers, the seventh year Prefect, hurried over. "What's the matter?" he asked, concern writ wide over his face. Harry dimly remembered that Matthew and Beth had dated for several months in the previous term, but broken up over Christmas.

One of the other girls answered the question for Beth, her voice too low for Harry to eavesdrop on. Matthew paled. "Are you sure?" Harry heard him ask. The girl nodded miserably.

Matthew turned to the surrounding Ravenclaws, all of whom looked apprehensive. "Penelope Clearwater has been Petrified," he said in a clear, loud voice. "Beth just met Percy Weasley coming out of the Hospital Wing."

A wave of dismay washed across the common room. Everyone had been worried about the attacks, and many of the younger students were friends with the victims, but Penelope was the first one of their House to be Petrified.

"That explains why Percy got called away, at least," Delf said quietly. Harry and Roderick nodded.

The school was edgy over the next week. It turned out Hermione had been Petrified at the same time as Penelope, and the double attack after the stretch of apparent safety made everyone anxious. Harry, Roderick and Delf spent even more time in the Library than before, snatching minutes before breakfast in the morning and staying until closing time every night. They developed a homework roster, each of them doing a majority of the work each night and the other two copying and revising. If any teachers noticed their essays read suspiciously similarly, they didn't bring it up.

A blustery Thursday evening on the cusp of April found them, yet again, in the Library, when Katie came up to them just before closing, as had become her habit. They were tucked into a small table at the very back: Delf's thought was that if they were far away from everyone else, they could talk a little bit without worrying about being overheard.

"Evening, bookworms," Katie said cheerfully, plopping down between Harry and Roderick.

"I think you mean 'smart people'," Delf corrected quietly as Harry greeted his girlfriend with a kiss and a grin. Their research was as fruitless as ever, but seeing her always brightened his day.

"How're the books today?" she asked, flipping the cover of the nearest one shut. _"Immanuel Constantopolous's Guide to Rare Reptiles._ Hm. Is this for Care of Magical Creatures?"

"It's in the O.W.L. curriculum for next year," Roderick lied smoothly, making methodical stacks of books and sliding one to Harry.

The trio of Ravenclaws had taken to walking Katie back to Gryffindor Tower whenever she came on them near the end of their study sessions, but the rout they followed that evening was a new one because Peeves had set off a mass of stinkbombs in the usual stairwell. Harry and Katie fell back behind Delf and Roderick, the better to engage in whispered conversations and stolen kisses.

"What say we let those two go to Ravenclaw tower while you and I take the long way back, hm?" she murmured conspiratorially, and Harry couldn't help but grin in response.

"I think that sounds amazing," he whispered back. "We can split off after these stairs."

They had just started up one of the common-knowledge secret stairways, Roderick in the front, followed by Delf, with Harry and Katie bringing up the rear. Most of Harry's attention was focused on Katie at that point, so no one was more startled than him when Delf's leg suddenly sank into a stair about a half-dozen steps above them and she let out a small, shrill scream.

"Ow! Damn, I even saw Roderick skip this one! Ah, _ow_ , my _ankle…_ damn."

Faster than thinking, Harry was upon her, kneeling one step below her. Her left leg up to the middle of her thigh had disappeared into the stair.

"Are you alright?" he demanded. "Your ankle's not broken, is it? Can you wiggle your toes?"

"Even if it was, I could still move my toes, Harry," she replied. "But I think it's just twisted. I can't get out though—"

"Here, I'll help." He knelt behind her and slid his arms around her ribs, under her arms. "Ready?" She nodded, making some of her hair stick up in his face. He tried unsuccessfully to blow it away, then sighed and lifted her free of the stair. "Can you hop up a few steps?" he asked once he was sure she was stable on one leg. "I'll piggy-back you the rest of the way. Roderick, can you get her bag?"

Roderick stooped to grab the strap while Delf hopped awkwardly onto Harry's back. "I'm really sorry about this, Katie," Harry said over his shoulder as he hiked up the rest of the stairs. "Is it alright if Roderick walks you the rest of the way? Delf should really go to the Hospital Wing."

"Oh, that's alright. I don't need an escort everywhere I go, you know."

"I know, but… I'd just really rather you weren't alone."

"We saw how much good that did Penelope and Hermione," Delf muttered from near his ear.

They had to go along the same hallway for a bit before splitting off towards Gryffindor tower and the infirmary, respectively. Harry could feel Delf's heart beating against his back, and her hair persisted in tickling his nose.

"This is fun!" Delf announced. She sounded awfully cheerful for someone with a twisted ankle. "You haven't given me a piggy back since—my birthday. Never mind, that wasn't that long ago actually. …You dropped me then!"

"It wasn't _my_ fault," Harry protested. "Roderick knocked into me!"

"Only because Tracey was steering!" Roderick laughed.

They had reached the end of the hallway by then, where Roderick and Katie were to turn left and Harry was to take Delf right.

"Well… goodnight," Katie said to him, a bit awkwardly.

"Yeah, night," Harry agreed, reminding himself not to kiss her, as that would be incredibly uncomfortable for Delf. With one last little wave and a sort of odd glance from her, they parted ways, two to bed, and two to the medical centre.

Delf's ankle was fine, as it turned out. Madam Pomfrey seemed relieved that it was a regular injury and not another Petrification. Delf insisted on taking a rather long detour back to the leg-eating stair, just so that she could step over it properly. Roderick was abed and snoring by the time he got up to the dorm, so he took the good example and went to sleep as well.

-o-

Harry yawned and stretched kinks out of his stiff spine. Why did the telescope stands have to be so low? And Astronomy always happened on the busiest days. Thursdays started with Potions and Ancient Runes, then Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts, which was exhausting all in its own way. And even after all that, Astronomy went till midnight. At least the weather was clearing up. Now that it was May, the clouds often (though not always) let them see the sky and actually learn something in class.

He bent back over his chart, making careful marks denoting Saturn's movements over the past three hours. He sat between Delf and Roderick, on the far side of the Astronomy Tower's observation deck, as far from the door as possible. They had been talking in whispers about the latest spate of books they had checked out of the Library, but exhaustion had taken hold and they had lapsed into silence over the last two hours. The wind was chill and sharp, and they all huddled within their cloaks, longing to be back in the common room.

As if to answer their prayers, Professor Sinistra called out, "Make your last notes, students, and pack up your things. Class dismissed for the night." A simultaneous breath of relief went up from the whole class, and they immediately started putting their parchments and telescopes and compasses away.

Roderick yawned broadly enough to crack his jaw. "If I ever have to spend three hours looking at Mars again, I'm going to jump off this tower," he said sleepily.

"We were looking at Saturn," Delf told him, collapsing her telescope.

Roderick was too tired to even groan. "Or maybe I'll just jump off right now." He moved to the edge of the platform and Harry laughed halfheartedly as he pretended to dive off.

"Come on," Delf said impatiently. "The rest of the class is leaving."

Roderick didn't move. "Look," he said, pointing off in the direction of the Forest. "I don't think that's Mars or Saturn."

Harry glanced after their retreating classmates, none of whom seemed to have noticed that they weren't following, and then moved to join Roderick at the rail. Delf huffed a sigh and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders.

Harry looked out at where his friend pointed, a spot at the edge of the Forest halfway between the Whomping Willow and Hagrid's cabin. At first he didn't see anything, but then a lance of bright light cut through the dark sky.

"There! What was that?" Roderick asked, adjusting his arm.

Harry pulled his telescope out of his bag and lifted it to his eye. It took him but a moment to locate the source of the light: it was…

"A Muggle car?" He felt more disbelieving than amazed. Hogwarts was surrounded by every Muggle repulsion spell known to wizard kind. There was no way one could have gotten through and be driving towards the castle at such a fast rate, and through the Forbidden Forest, no less!

"What?" Delf said incredulously, and snatched the telescope from Harry. He was still able to trace the car's trajectory with his naked eyes, and watched in dumbfounded silence as the machine broke the tree line with a crash audible even to them, and rolled to a halt on the lawn. Squinting, Harry saw the doors click open, and two people tumble out onto the grass.

"Oh," said Delf. She put the telescope down. "Our favorite little trouble-makers."

"I should have known," Harry moaned. "Come on!"

"Where'd they get a car?" Roderick demanded of no one in particular as they ran for the door.

"It's obviously the one they flew here in at the start of the year," Delf replied, taking the lead as they reached the narrow spiral staircase that led to the rest of the castle.

"Was that only this year?" Roderick sighed. "It feels like a decade ago already. We're old."

"Shush, we're passing Sinistra's rooms," Harry cautioned them, and they fell quiet. The rest of the sneaking through the castle passed in silence, and they reached the Entry Hall and large main doors without mishap. They caught Tom and Ron just coming in from the grounds, and hurriedly wrestled them into a nearby broom cupboard. For once, they were smart enough not to protest.

"For the third and final time: fulfill your promise," Harry said sternly, glaring down at his younger brother.

"My, such drama," Roderick murmured to Delf from behind him.

Tom didn't even seem to take a breath. "Well, since the diary told me that Hagrid was the one who opened the Chamber last time, we decided to go and see him after Hermione got Petrified, and Dumbledore and Fudge came and we had the Cloak and we hid, and _Malfoy_ was there—"

"What the hell was my brother doing there?" Roderick cut in.

"No, your _dad_ ," Tom said impatiently. "And they said that they had to take Hagrid to Azkaban because he did it fifty years ago, and it's happening again now, and Dumbledore said Hagrid shouldn't be taken away and Malfoy said that the governors of the school wanted Dumbledore not to be Headmaster anymore because of all the attacks, so Dumbledore and Hagrid both had to go and we barely got to talk to Hagrid at _all_ before they came, but when he left he said that if we wanted anything, we should 'follow the spiders', that's exactly what he said—"

Ron shuddered convulsively.

"—and so we did, just tonight, because we just thought someone should do _something_ , and no one was, so we went to the Forest and there was this _giant_ spider named—"

"Aragog, we know," Harry interrupted. "What did he say? And why did he not kill you? The only reason he didn't do me in two years ago was because I was with Hagrid."

Tom gaped at him. "You _knew?_ You _knew_ there were giant spiders out there, and you let us go anyway?!"

_"Let_ you! How the hell was I supposed to know you were planning to 'follow the spiders' like a bunch of bloody bastard morons? Did he tell you anything?"

His brother drew a deep, shaky breath. "Yes, he did. He said it wasn't Hagrid who opened the Chamber fifty years ago… he said that there was another monster in the school, one that spiders are really scared of, I guess." Tom snorted. "'We do not speak of it' indeed. He said that the last time the Chamber was opened a girl was killed in the loo, and then he started trying to eat us, and the car came and saved us and then you lot were here, and… and... yeah."

"That was the patchiest thing I've ever heard," Roderick declared.

"The girl died in a _loo?"_ Delf repeated. "I hope she and Moaning Myrtle get on, or her afterlife must be terrible."

The second years offered no more interesting information, so Harry sent them off to bed.

"Well, that's something," Delf whispered as they climbed the last set of stairs before the Ravenclaw landing. "Spiders don't like it. Maybe we could ask Professor Kettleburn about that."

"And we also know it can kill," Roderick added in a low voice. "I think that's a bit more pressing, frankly."

"And Hagrid's gone to Azkaban?" Harry murmured, unable to even fathom the thought.

"And if Dumbledore's gone too, does that make MGonagall the Headmistress now?" Delf wondered.

But they were too tired to think properly. Yawning, they bid each other good night and went up to bed.

A couple weeks later, Harry and Roderick were sitting with the twins in the Great Hall, cramming for the upcoming Transfiguration exam. Well, actually, Harry and Roderick were studying. The twins were carefully enchanting a pair of shoelaces to tangle each other whenever the wearer sat down. Harry made a point of not asking who the test subject would be. Delf was in the hospital wing, visiting Tracey. She said that reading their classwork aloud to her helped both of them learn. For some reason, she was convinced that Tracey could hear everything going on around her, despite Madam Pomfrey's protestations.

"Um… F-Fred?" The quartet looked up as one. Ginny Weasley stood behind her brothers, twisting her hands in her skirt and staring steadfastly at the floor. "I… I need to tell you something." The twins adopted something resembling serious expressions. No matter what anyone said about Fred and George, they took their roles as elder brothers and protectors quite seriously. In their own way.

"I… um… my… I have this… I found…I have to tell you…"

"We knew about Percy and Penelope, if that's what you're trying to say," Fred said helpfully.

"The whole school knows about them," George added kindly. "You don't need to act like someone's died."

"I! I! I!" Ginny's voice had risen about three octaves and her face was the colour of a ripe beet. The poor girl sounded like she was hiccupping.

Just then, Harry felt a touch on his shoulder. He looked up, and smiled to see Katie standing behind him. "Hi!" he said happily. He had barely seen her at all in the past two weeks. Since Tom gave them the clue of spiders and whatever kind of snake it was hating each other, they'd spent every spare waking moment reading. Harry had even adopted the bad habit of reading books under the desk during class (in Defense Against the Dark Arts, this was almost ridiculously easy, but McGonagall was both sharper of eye and less tolerant of such transgressions). He knew he wasn't paying Katie enough attention, and he had every intention of fixing that as soon as this whole Mystery Snake bit wrapped itself up. Which he was confident it was going to do very soon.

"Hi," she replied, giving him an odd, crooked smile. "Do you have a spare second?"

Harry glanced apprehensively down at his half-finished revision notes. The exam was the very next day and he was woefully behind in his studies.

"Sure," he said, and got up to follow her along the aisle.

"Don't snog his brains out, Katie!" George called cheerfully. "He's been working so hard, it would be a shame to ruin them."

"Even though he is just a pretty face," Fred amended. Harry heard Roderick laugh heartily as he and Katie left the Hall. That was good. Roderick hadn't been laughing enough since Tracey was attacked.

He followed her to a large alcove just across from the main doors: more of a short dead-end hallway, really. When they were well obscured from the casual passerby, she turned about wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him hard on the mouth. He responded eagerly: he had definitely missed this during his indentured cloister-hood in the Library.

But before it got very far, she pulled away and said, "I think we should break up."

Harry's gut clenched. "What?"

"Yeah. I think it's just a good idea. Maybe later we could try again, but now…" She looked away, biting her lip. Harry saw her chin was trembling. His mind felt numb. What had gone wrong? He'd been busy lately, but he was going to fix it… Really…

"Well… why?" he croaked. Who had put gravel in his throat?

"I mean… over the past few months, you've been very… distant. I know you're very close with Tracey and if was difficult when she got Petrified, but I'm not stupid. I know you aren't studying for next year's… Care of Magical Creatures OWL curriculum or whatever. I don't know what it is, but it's been taking you farther and farther away from me, and I can't help but feel… well, lonely. So, because you obviously need to do… what it is you're doing, and I need to… not feel lonely, I think we should be… not together."

"But… I don't…" Harry coughed. "want to…"

The trembling of her chin intensified. "I don't either, but I just… don't see it working as things are now. I'm sorry." She turned and hurried back towards the Entry Hall. Harry listened to her footsteps retreat farther and farther away from him. He slid down against the wall, trying to understand what had just happened.

Several days later, he still wasn't having much luck.

"I mean, do you think I could have said anything?" he asked over a lunch of cold turkey sandwiches. Even the food seemed lackluster.

"I don't think so," Delf replied. "From the sounds of things, she was pretty eager to be done with you. I say you should just get over it." Her eyes had been shimmering a deep browny-gold for the last several days, and Harry had had as much luck figuring that out as he had the terrible mood preceding it.

"Oh, that's easy for you to say," he snapped. "Next time you date someone for nine months and they break up with you, tell me how you feel."

"No one'sh conteshting that you feel wotten, mate," Roderick commented around a mouthful of sandwich. "Delf'sh jusht inshenshitive." He swallowed and coughed.

"I am _not,"_ she protested.

"Anyone who says 'get over it' about anything more important than a jammed toe is automatically insensitive," Roderick said firmly. "And even if they jam their toe really badly, sometimes."

This was something new: his friends couldn't help him. He remained 'mopey' (Delf's word) until the weekend before final exams, when Professor McGonagall stood up at lunch and said "I have good news for you all."

Instead of quieting down like when teachers usually made announcements, the Great Hall exploded with noise.

"Dumbledore's back!" several people, including Tom, shouted.

"They've caught the Heir of Slytherin!" yelled Kelly.

"Quidditch is back on!" Oliver bellowed triumphantly.

McGonagall raised a hand for silence, which she now got. "Professor Sprout tells me that the Mandrakes are nearly ready to be harvested. By this time tomorrow, all of the Petrification victims will be awake and well once more."

The cacophony of before was nothing compared to the celebration following those words. People shouted and cheered, Beth Morgan was crying again, Roderick threw his hat in the air, and the twins shot sparks out of their wands. McGonagall didn't even try to quiet them down.

Professor Flitwick gave them leave for free study in class that afternoon, and exactly zero studying was accomplished, free or otherwise. The diminutive teacher didn't mind: in fact, he helped lead the discussion. Flitwick was just one of the reasons Harry was glad to be in Ravenclaw.

At the end of the lesson, he led the portion of the class still in Divination up to the tower, depositing Delf, Roderick and Harry at the entrance of the Library. Even he knew their habits.

"Time for a Tom Check," Delf declared, plopping down at a nearby table. After the midnight spider expedition, they had taken to checking in on Tom every so often on the Map, just to make sure he wasn't off causing mayhem.

"There he is," Roderick said, pointing at a group of dots moving away from the Defense room, led by Lockheart. "All the trouble he can get into there is a bout of mutual ego stroking."

"You underestimate him, Roderick," Delf admonished cheerily. "We all know Tom finds trouble like a fly finds ears."

Harry snorted. "True. But really, a quick walk between classes can't… Wait. What the hell is Lockheart doing? No, you can't leave them! You bastard, get back there! Okay, well, at least they're… No… you morons, no! Get back with the damned group—! This is balls. Let's go intercept them."

"Do we have to?" Delf whined. "If they're so desperate to get in trouble, let them. They deserve it."

"I'd normally agree with you, but since they nearly got eaten by Aragog the last time they wandered off, I think I'm somehow morally obligated to intervene." Grumbling, she hopped up from the table and followed him and Roderick as they hurried towards Tom and Ron and whatever trouble was surely brewing.

"Shit, they're going to cross ways with McGonagall."

"Good," said Delf. "Saves us the trouble of telling them off."

"Maybe," Harry replied thoughtfully, examining the trio of dots. "Oh, odd, they've gone off the other direction. Come on, there's a passage that'll let out right in front of them if we hurry."

And that's what happened. Tom and Ron jumped a foot in the air when they pushed out from behind the tapestry. Ron whipped his wand out and pointed it at them. Roderick laughed when it instantly fell in half. Ron scowled and stuffed it back in his robes.

"Where are you off to?" Harry asked.

"You've already used up your promise," Tom said smugly. "I don't have to answer you."

Oh-ho! Two could play that game! "True," he allowed. "But we can just follow you. Go ahead."

Tom looked stunned. "We—we're going back to Gryffindor Tower! I forgot my book."

"No you're not," Harry told him. "You turned down when you ditched Lockheart's class five minutes ago, and left instead of right when Professor McGonagall found you."

Tom's jaw fell open. "How do you _know_ that?" Harry smirked. It was a source of great pleasure in his life that Tom had no knowledge of the Marauder's Map.

"I never made any kind of promise to you. I don't have to answer," he responded, smirk spreading to a legitimate grin. His brother scowled in response.

"We told McGonagall we were going to the Hospital Wing to visit Hermione," he muttered.

"And where were you going before McGonagall made you decide to do that?"

"I'm not going to te—!"

"Fine, I don't care. Let's just go to the infirmary before we get caught loitering."

So the five of them hurried down the corridor, the Ravenclaws forming a rough triangle around the younger students. Madam Pomfrey looked a little surprised to see them all come in together, but allowed them to stay on, as long as they were quiet. Roderick perched on the end of Tracey's bedframe, across from Hermione's bed, which Harry, Delf, Tom and Ron gathered around.

"Do you really think anyone will know what was behind the attacks when they wake up?" Delf wondered aloud.

Harry shrugged. "We can hope."

"I think they will," Roderick said decisively. "Look at their faces. Whatever did this, they reacted to it a split second before being Petrified."

"But that doesn't mean they'll necessarily remember," Harry said. "We don't know what Petrification could do to their minds." He instantly regretted saying it: Roderick's expression suddenly resembled those of the victims themselves.

Tom suddenly became very interested in Hermione's right hand, where it lay curled up in a fist in front of them on the blankets. Was he trying to… take something out of it?

Indeed he was. After several seconds of careful finessing, a crumpled brown page of parchment was revealed. "What's it say?" asked Ron.

"It's a page from a book." Tom sounded puzzled. Harry rolled his eyes at Delf, who quickly looked away.

"Let me see," he said, reaching across Hermione's still form.

"I can read, Harry," Tom snapped, snatching the paper out of his reach. "It says, 'Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size, and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched under a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it. Only four were ever recorded to exist, the last dying in 734.'" The boy looked up triumphantly.

Harry's eyes had gone very wide.

"What? Why do you lot look like you've been Stunned?"

"It's nothing," Harry murmured. "Can I just see that?" Tom passed the page over, clearly rather disconcerted by Harry's change in attitude.

"That's from Leonard Aldopold's _Compendium of Magical Reptiles_!" Delf whispered, peering over his shoulder. "We checked it out three weeks ago."

"It looks like Hermione got there first," Roderick said, coming over to look at the page with them. "Right before she and Penelope were attacked. But I don't understand your reaction: we've read about Basilisks all over the place. Why is this speical?"

"None of the other books mentioned the spiders," Harry explained absently.

Tom and Ron were looking between the Ravenclaws with mounting confusion.

"Or the roosters," Delf added.

"No, but there's been nothing about... no... I know! I remember Hagrid saying they were being killed before Christmas holiday! _Merlin!"_

"Rooters?" Roderick said incredulously. _"That's_ going to be our big breakthrough?"

"Breakthrough in what?" Tom demanded, only to be completely ignored.

"But it doesn't make sense," Harry said, frowning at the page. "Any who are fixed in the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. No one's dead."

"You're right," Roderick agreed thoughtfully. "This doesn't say anything about Petrification."

"Nothing has said anything about Petrification," Harry agreed, frustion mounting quickly. It was the same problem they'd been having for months, even after the answer just seemed to happen to fall on them, it was still the outstanding problem!

"Well, hold on," Delf said. "Do we know that anyone actually looked at it _directly?"_ The boys looked at her, mystified. "Colin Creevey." She pointed to a bed down the aisle. "He was holding his camera in front of his face, wasn't he? And Justin," again she pointed "must have had Nearly Headless Nick in the way."

"Tracey was right next to a trophy case," Roderick put in eagerly. "It had glass on the front."

"Even Mrs. Norris," Harry added, his excitement building with each new example. "There was water on the floor, remember?"

"What about Hermione and Penelope?" Roderick asked. "They were found together, weren't they?"

"Yeah," said Delf. "We didn't hear anything odd about that…"

"She had a mirror," Ron piped up. "She was holding it when they found her." He pointed to her left hand, held up and loosely fisted. It easily could have held the handle of a small vanity mirror.

"And Hermione and Penelope had a mirror," Delf said, radiating satisfaction. "No one looked directly at the Basilisk. It was always seen as a reflection, or through something else."

"Brilliant," Harry breathed.

"Wait, hold on," Tom interrupted. Harry had quite forgotten he was there. "How did she know what it was?"

"I like how he assumes you know everything," Roderick chortled.

"I can only assume she's been cross-referencing our Library checkouts and deduced we were after snakes," Harry replied, squashing a grin at Roderick's comment.

"Then why were _you_ researching snakes?" Tom insisted.

"We-e-e…" Harry floundered. Never had it crossed his mind that he'd actually have to explain himself to Tom. He had no prepared lie. "We had a hunch," he said lamely. Tom narrowed his eyes.

"We thought we saw something when Tracey got Petrified," Roderick put in quickly.

"You're lying," Tom announced smugly, hazel eyes dancing with glee behind his glasses. The tables had turned, it would seem. And as much as Harry hated to admit it, it seemed like his only option was to tell the truth.

"Okay," he said heavily. "As much as I wish I didn't have to do this, I'm going to tell you something really serious that you absolutely may not tell anyone else, ever. This is miles more important than my tattoo or snogging Katie. Before I say it, I want you to swear on your honour as a Gryffindor that you won't go blabbing."

"Don't do it, Harry," Delf warned. "Gryffindor or no, your brother is the biggest gossip in school. That _really_ can't get around."

"I swear, I swear," Tom said eagerly, sensing juicy secrets.

"Not even Mum and Dad," Harry added. "And _especially_ not Dumbledore."

"I promise," Tom said, though there was a split second's hesitation.

"Okay, I've…" Harry took a deep breath. "I've been hearing the snake that's doing the attacks. It's happened three times. That's why we've been researching them, to try and figure out what sort is doing it. It seems Hermione just got there first."

Tom didn't seem to be aware that his mouth was hanging open. "You're a P-P-P- _Parselmouth?"_

"And you have to promise too," Harry said to Ron, belatedly realizing that they weren't the same person. Ron nodded dumbly.

"But something still doesn't make sense," Roderick said. "It's an enormous damned snake. How does it move through solid stone walls?"

Harry thought.

"They're not solid," Delf said just as Harry was about to admit defeat. "There's all sorts of things in the walls: everyone knows there are secret passages, and then wherever we went lat year down the trap door... even the plumbing has to be somewhere, right?"

"The plumbing... Delf, you're a genius!" Harry exclaimed, wrapping her in an exuberant hug. "That's how it's been getting around: through the _pipes!_ "

"But then there must be a way that it gets down to the Chamber of Secrets," Roderick cut in. "I think everyone's been right the whole time: the Chamber must have been opened fifty years ago, and the Basilisk killed that girl in the loo…" Harry looked up as Roderick trailed off.

"What?"

"The damned loo…" Roderick murmured. "Delf said it herself. Moaning Myrtle is the girl from fifty years ago."

-o-

_Dear Mum and Dad,  
There has been a lot going on here, so I'm sorry I haven't written much recently. I know you've heard all about the Chamber of Secrets and everything to do with that, but here's more news: my friend Hermione has been Petrified,_

"Oh, that poor thing…"

_in case you haven't heard, along with several other students and Nearly Headless Nick._

"A ghost got Petrified? How is that possible?"

"And he's the Gryffindor ghost, too!"

"I don't really think that's pertinent, dear."

_I'm really upset Hermione's not around because she was really smart and helped me with homework and stuff._

"And by 'helps with homework' he means 'does my homework', right?"

"Oh, have some faith!"

_I don't suppose Harry's written that he's been a little under the weather, has he?_

"No, he never writes unless it's to say he's not coming home for Christmas…"

_It's not surprising: after having Katie rip his heart out like that,_

"Aw, poor boy!"

"Oh, you're sympathetic towards HIM getting his heart ripped out, are you?"

"Oh come on, you were a very different case…"

_I think anyone would be a little depressed. I heard from Ron that the twins were talking to Angelina who had been consoling Katie earlier today that she was just really mad at Harry for always being so busy all the time. I have no idea what he and his friends are always up to, but it's probably nothing good._  
Well, I'll keep you updated.  
Love, Tom

 


	13. Tom Marvolo Riddle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone this week you get three chapter, but we have know caught up ff.net. So after this week there will only be one chapter a week.  
> Fire-1

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_

"We have to tell Professor McGonagall," Tom said in hushed tones. "Merlin, but I wish Dumbledore were here…"

"Dumbledore's been just as useless as all the rest of the staff, I'd like to point out," Harry responded, earning a laugh from Delf and a glare from his brother.

"No one besides us knows about this," Tom said sternly. "It's our responsibility to tell the professors what's happened."

"Don't lecture me about responsibility. It feels weird."

"But really," Tom insisted. "We have to go tell the teachers!"

Harry sighed, but Tom was right: this was bigger than any brotherly discord. The whole school was at risk. "Fine," he said. "Let's go to the staff room. It's break soon, so she should be there."

They all got up and hurried out of the Hospital Wing, making towards the teacher's room half the castle away.

But suddenly, Professor McGonagall's voice rang out, sounding so close that they all jumped and spun about, expecting to see her at the end of the hallway.

_"All students to return to their house dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please."_

Harry glanced between Roderick and Delf in consternation. What was going on? This had never happened after any of the previous attacks.

"Come on," Harry said, steering Tom and Ron, each by a shoulder, around the next left turn. "You heard her. Dormitories. Let's go."

"But—hey! We have valuable information for them!" Tom protested. "They'd be seriously impressed with us if we showed up and solved everything for them."

"Frankly, I think they'd be more impressed if you managed to follow instructions for once," Roderick said dryly.

"He's right," Harry said, pushing the Gryffindors up a flight of stairs. "We can talk to the professors later, after they've dealt with whatever's going on."

"—just here, where the original message was left…"

This time, McGonagall _was_ right near them, her voice coming up the corridor perpendicular to their own. They would cross paths unless they did something fast.

"Quick," Roderick hissed, pulling a tapestry aside, revealing a hidden cubby about the dimensions of a large wardrobe. Relieved, Harry hustled Tom and Ron into the musty space. Delf and Roderick clambered in behind him. He hadn't known of this particular hidey-hole, but he was certainly glad Roderick did. The air was thick with dust and there was no light, but he could hear the teachers perfectly well as they approached.

"And you can see for yourself," McGonagall's voice said from beyond the thick weave they hid behind. "The attacker has left another message. Our worst fears have come to pass. A student has been taken into the Chamber of Secrets."

It was Snape's voice that read the aforementioned message: _"Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever…"_

"Who?" quavered Flitwick. "Who is it, Minerva?"

McGonagall's voice was tight with emotion. "Ginny Weasley."

Harry felt Ron sink to the floor next to him, and Tom hauling him back up to his feet.

"This is the end of Hogwarts," McGonagall continued sadly. "The Headmaster always feared—"

Just then, she was interrupted by the arrival of none other than Gilderoy Lockheart, who sounded downright jovial.

"So sorry—dozed off—what have I missed?"

Even in _silence,_ Harry could hear the other professors' loathing for their colleague.

"Just the man," said Snape. "The _very_ man. A girl has been taken by the monster, Lockheart. Taken to the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your time has come at last."

Lockheart made a startled choking sound.

"That's right, Gilderoy," Professor Sprout put in. "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I—well, I—" spluttered Lockheart.

"Yes, didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?" Professor Flitwick sounded unusually devious.

"D-did I? I don't recall…"

"I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested," Snape noted silkily. "Did you say that the affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given free rein from the first?"

"I… I really never… You may have misunderstood…"

"We'll leave it to you the, Gilderoy," said McGonagall smugly. "Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everyone's out of your way. You'll be able to tackle to monster all by yourself. A free rein at last."

There was a charged silence. "V-very well," Lockheart agreed, voice trembling. "I'll—I'll be in my office, getting—getting ready." Harry heard his footsteps hurrying away and grinned. Despite everything, that was probably the best thing he'd ever witnessed.

"Right." McGonagall's tone was clipped. "That's got _him_ out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside of their dormitories, please."

The group dispersed quickly, and when all the footsteps had faded away, Roderick pushed the tapestry aside and they tumbled out into the hallway.

"Ginny's been taken!" Tom exclaimed.

"Yes, we all heard that," Delf said impatiently. She never appreciated redundancy. "But what are we going to do now?"

"Well, we obviously have to go see Lockheart," Tom replied bossily. "He's going to try and get into the Chamber. We have to tell him what we know."

"No we don't!" the three Ravenclaws chorused.

"If we go to anyone, it should be McGonagall," Harry said firmly.

 _"McGonagall_ just dismissed the hero who's going to save the school like he was some up-jumped Squib," Tom replied scornfully. "Lockheart said he was going down into the Chamber, so we have to tell him what he's up against. Even the teachers were only calling it a 'monster' just now. You heard."

"What I heard was you calling Lockheart a 'hero'; I'm officially revoking your speaking privileges. Are you even _listening_ to yourself?"

"Well, I don't care what you say, Harry! I know just as much as you do and I'm going to go help Lockheart like a proper Potter! Come on, Ron!" And with that, he took off running down the hall towards the Defense rooms, followed by a stumbling, shell-shocked Ron.

"Why does it always come back down to being a Potter?" Roderick said to Delf as Harry shouted "Wait! Tom, you blithering _moron,_ stop! Come back!"

"You're not just going to let them bung all this up, are you?" Delf said curiously to Harry. It was a fair question, given their track record. It seemed half the time they interfered, and the other half they let the Gryffindors get in loads of trouble. But Harry knew which it had to be this time.

"No," he said. "This is too important. Roderick, you should go back to the teacher's room and tell them all what's happening once they've regrouped, especially McGonagall, and Flitwick and Snape and Sprout as well, I suppose. Delf, come help me wrangle Tom and Ron."

"It would be my pleasure," the girl replied, her eyes going green with excitement. Harry smiled. It had been a long time since he'd seen them that colour.

"Right," Roderick said, all business. "I'll catch up with you lot later. Go stop them from bungling everything."

"Right."

Roderick took the fork to their left, while Harry and Delf dashed off in the other direction after Tom and Ron. They didn't meet anyone on their way, due to most everyone being tucked away in their House dorms. By way of several of the more disused secret passageways, they go to the Defense room just in time to see Tom and Ron burst into through the door and start yelling for Lockheart.

"Come on," Harry said tersely, hurrying across the hallway to follow his brother and Ron.

The Defense professor's personal rooms were behind the classroom, and the sound of urgent voices echoed from the open door.

Harry and Delf wove between the rows of desks and stopped in the doorway to Lockheart's private rooms. A single glance around was enough for Harry to see what was going on: two large trunks stood open on the floor, one buried under piles of robes of all hues, the other with books thrown in in haphazard order.

"Urgent call…" the man was saying vaguely as the two Ravenclaws stopped in the doorway to take in the scene. "Unavoidable… got to go…"

"Scarpering, are you?" Harry asked scathingly. Lockheart's head jerked up, and Tom and Ron rounded on them.

"Ah, good, Mr. Potter! Miss Greengrass! Excellent. How fortunate. If you could please do me the favour of removing Thomas and Mr. Weasley, I would be most appreciative. I'm really quite busy at the moment, you see, urgent summons—"

"Shut up," said Harry sharply. Lockheart obeyed, shocked. Harry was somewhat surprised himself, but didn't stop to correct himself. "You're a coward and a fool and a liar." Tom's mouth hung open so far that Harry worried he might not be able to close it later. "And to pay for breaking your word, you're going to help us keep it for you."

"My dear boy," Lockheart scoffed. "Surely you know there is no way for anyone to make good on all the promises I made."

"But you're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" Tom protested desperately. "You can't leave now, not with all the Dark stuff going on!"

"And what about Ginny? My _sister?"_ Ron added jerkily.

"Ah—yes, well, most unfortunate… no one regrets it more than I—"

"But all the things you did in your books…" Tom protested. "This is nothing compared to that!"

"Books can be misleading," Lockheart said evasively, dumping a drawer of socks into a trunk.

"What do you mean?" Tom asked. Harry could see from his expression that Lockheart was ruining his notion of what a hero ought to be.

"He lied," Harry said tiredly. "All his books were about things other people did."

Tom and Lockheart gaped at him. "How could you know that?" Lockheart demanded.

"We've spent every spare second of the past semester studying up on rare magical animals," Delf said smugly. She had been the most pleased of their trio to discover the things they had. "It's interesting that that Armenian warlock who rid his village of werewolves did the exact same thing as you, only twenty years earlier. And Henrietta the Harelip who vanquished the Bandon Banshee? Fifteen years before you claimed to do it. Have you added time travel to your list of achievements?"

"Then… you've just been taking credit for things other people have done?" Tom sounded so hurt and incredulous Harry nearly felt bad. "Is there anything you _can_ do?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact there is. I'm rather gifted at Memory Charms. Which, I'm sorry to say, I'll have to use on the four of you. Can't have you blabbing my secrets all over the place. I'd never sell another book." He drew his wand from his sleeve, but before he could do anything with it, Tom bellowed "EXPELLIARMUS!"

Lockheart was blown backwards, tumbling end over end over his trunk while his wand flew across the room, where Ron caught it and tossed it out the window. Harry was surprised and rather impressed. Tom advanced, still pointing his wand at Lockheart.

"What do you want me to do?" the man whined. "I don't know how to get into the Chamber of Secrets, or what's in it."

"You're in luck," Harry replied. "We do. Bring him." Tom forced Lockheart up at wand-point, and followed him out as he led the way from the Defense rooms down to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Myrtle was sitting on the cistern of the end toilet. "Oh," she said, eyeing them warily. "What do you want?"

"To ask you how you died," Harry said, hoping desperately that the question wouldn't send her into another in the endless round of bouts of weeping and tantrums.

But no, instead of dissolving into tears, her expression became one of intense pleasure, as if he'd just asked her to marry him or something.

"Ooooh, it was _dreadful,_ " she said with delight. "It happened right here. I died in this very cubicle. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been." Harry's gut tightened with anticipation. "Anyway, what really got me was that it was a _boy_ speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go away, and then—" She took a theatrical pause, swelling importantly. "I _died."_

"How?" Tom demanded bluntly.

"No idea," Myrtle said dramatically. "I just remember seeing a pair of great big yellow eyes. My whole body seized up, and then I was floating away…" She looked dreamily at Harry, who shifted impatiently. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."

"Where exactly did you see the eyes?" Harry asked hurriedly, before she got too caught up in reminiscing.

"Somewhere there," she said, pointing vaguely through Delf at the sink across from her toilet. Delf moved aside so Harry could go forward and examine it. Tom and Ron craned their heads around to try and get a look at it while Lockheart stood well back, a look of complete and utter terror on his face.

It looked like a perfectly normal sink: taps, bowl, pipes, nothing out of the ordinary. They spent a solid ten minutes checking it over, but it was Delf who found it: a tiny snake scratched on the side of one of the copper taps.

"That one's never worked," Myrtle told them brightly as Harry tried to turn it.

"Harry," Delf said quietly, touching his arm. "Do it. Say something in Parseltongue."

"But I—" He stopped. He'd never purposefully spoken Parseltongue before. That time when he was nine, he hadn't even realized it wasn't English till the snake spoke back. And he'd only been hearing the Basilisk this year, not talking to it. He stared at the tiny drawing, pretending it was real.

"Open," he said clearly.

"Nope," said Delf. "English."

Harry huffed, and focused. If he let his eyes go fuzzy, the torchlight wavering over it almost made it look alive. "Open," he said again, only that wasn't what he heard. Instead, a strange, sibilant hissing escaped between his teeth, and the tap suddenly shone blindingly white and started spinning. Then it began to move: the sink slid downwards into the floor, revealing a large pipe, big enough that a grown man could slide inside.

Someone gasped behind him, and he looked around: Delf's eyes were green and hazel, denoting excitement and anxiety; Ron and Tom wore identical expressions of amazement and confusion; Lockheart simply looked perplexed.

"But… shouldn't it be…" he glanced at Tom, then quickly back at Harry.

"We agree it doesn't make sense," Harry said quickly. "And it doesn't really matter right now. The point is that we've opened the way to the Chamber of Secrets, and I, at least, am going down there."

"Me too," said Tom stoutly.

"Me too," Ron agreed.

"And me," said Delf.

"I think you should stay here," Harry told her warily. Her eyes narrowed and she got that stubborn look of hers.

"And why is that?" she asked. "Because I'm a girl?"

"What? No!" The idea had honestly not even entered his head. It was just because… she was… well, it was hard to explain. "Because someone needs to stay here to tell Roderick and the teachers what's happened when they arrive, and you're the only one I trust to do that." If he could, he would have had all of them stay safely put, but he couldn't come up with a reason to deny Tom and Ron. Especially Ron, with it being Ginny who was taken.

"Oh." She looked slightly mollified.

There was a pause.

"Well, you obviously don't need me," Lockheart wavered, a shadow of his old smile crossing his face.

"Of course we don't need you," Harry snapped. "This isn't about need. This is about you being a rotten coward and getting what's coming to you."

"You can go first," Ron snarled.

Lockheart blanched, but stepped forward. "Children," he said weakly, "what do you expect to _do?"_

"Try, at least, unlike you," Harry said, jabbing him in the small of the back with his wand. Lockheart sat down and slid his legs into the pipe.

"I really don't think—" he started to say, but Ron pushed him, hard, and he slid out of sight, leaving only a shrill scream in his wake.

"Clear out the cobwebs for us!" Tom shouted after him, and laughed at his own wit.

"I'll go next," Harry announced. "Tom, Ron, wait a minute before coming after me so I can get out of the way. Delf, wait for Roderick and tell them what's happened. We'll be back out soon, I hope."

"I know what to do, Harry," she replied. "Just go get Ginny. And come back safe."

Harry nodded seriously, then sat down and pushed himself into the hole.

The pipe was dank and dim, and he could feel the rough, slimy stone shredding his robes as he slid down, and down, and down. It was like a never-ending slide. Shafts of light intermittently broke through the darkness, showing him that other pipes fed into theirs, though none was as large. The pipe obviously led far down beneath the castle, probably below the dungeons even. It seemed to go on forever, when it suddenly flattened out and spat him into a dim, echoing, low-ceilinged cavern. He landed with a clumsy _thud—crunch—"Ow!",_ but then picked himself up and brushed the remains of his shredded robes off. Lockheart stood a small distance away, gazing down at his own ruined robes and looking as though he'd been drained of all colour.

"Lumos," Harry said to his wand as Tom and then Ron came shooting out of the tube in quick succession.

"Ow," Tom muttered, rubbing his bum as he stood up. "Where is this?" he said, looking around worriedly. "We must be miles beneath the school."

"It's probably under the lake," Ron said, eyeing the dripping walls distrustfully.

Harry turned to illuminate the dark path ahead of them. "Well, wherever we're going is this way," he said and reluctantly took the lead. The other three tailed him with varying degrees of eagerness.

"Keep your eyes narrowed," Harry told them. "If _anything_ moves, close them immediately. Remember, we're only here to get Ginny. If the Basilisk finds us, run like hell."

"You're a coward, Harry," Tom told him snidely.

"I'm not a coward: I just have good self-preservation instincts." Tom snorted derisively, but didn't give a comeback.

They crept around a corner, and Harry flinched back, bumping into Tom, when he saw the gigantic green form blocking their path.

"What is it?" Tom hissed.

"It might be the snake," Harry whispered back. "Stay here."

"What happened to 'run like hell'?" Tom asked, sounding something between sarcastic and genuinely afraid.

"We haven't got Ginny yet, that's what happened," Harry snapped, anxiety making him short-tempered. "Now stay here and stay _quiet_ for one second, would you?"

So, forcing confidence down to his stiff legs, Harry inched around the corner, keeping his back to the wall and his eyes barely open. The Basilisk didn't move, and when he was about a dozen meters away, he saw why: it was only an old skin. It was wrinkled and a shade of poisonous neon green, and the creature that shed it must have been nearly seven meters long.

"It's safe," he called. "Come see! Do you know how much Professor Snape would give for even just a scrap of this stuff?"

Tom ran out and was standing next to him, gaping, in no time. Ron and Lockheart followed at a somewhat more sedate pace, and when Lockheart came around the corner, his nerve failed and he collapsed to the ground.

"Hey, get up!" Tom shouted, starting back to them.

Lockheart got up alright—he got up and lunged straight at Ron, knocking him to the ground, and when he got back up, he had Ron's wand held at arm's length, pointed at his students.

"The adventure ends here, boys!" he cried. "I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and that you three _tragically_ lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body. Say goodbye to your memories!" Before Harry could react to the rapidly degenerating situation, Lockheart raised Ron's Sellotaped wand high over his head and yelled "Obliviate!"

There was an explosion that set the passage rocking, and Harry grabbed Tom's arm and ran as giant chunks of ceiling thundered down around them. A rock struck him in the side of the head, sending him staggering so he got his feet tangled in the snake skin and went sprawling. The noise seemed to last a long time, but finally the dust settled and he struggled to sit upright. Instead of the passage they'd just come down, he was looking at a solid wall of tumbled rock.

Tom was standing nearby, shouting "Ron! Are you OK? Ron!"

"I'm here!" Ron shouted back, voice muffled by the tons of rock in the way. "I'm OK. This git's not though—he got blasted by the wand. Is your brother there?"

Tom looked around and spied Harry still half-sprawled amidst the Basilisk skin. "Harry!" he exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

"I've knocked my head," Harry replied, wiping dust from his face. "Ah, I'm bleeding. Delf will love that. I don't think I've got a concussion though. Help me up." Tom did so, hauling at Harry's hand and yelling "Yeah, he's fine!" to Ron at the same time.

"What now?" Ron's voice said, sounding desperate. "We can't get though. It'd take ages… d'you think you could do something, Harry?"

Harry squinted up at the wall of rock and the roof above: large cracks had formed in the ceiling. Clearing the rubble—and he wasn't even sure he could—might remove the only thing keeping the ceiling up.

"I can't," he called back. "We'll have to go on alone. Try to clear some of this away from the top, okay? So we can come back through when we're done." To be honest, he didn't feel nearly as optimistic as he sounded. He was about to go face a giant Basilisk and possibly save a girl from death with none other than his younger brother in tow. He would have traded him out for Lockheart given half a chance. Well, probably not Lockheart. But still. Ron, maybe.

"Come on," he said to Tom, who fell in step beside him. Ron's distant grunts as he shifted rocks faded to nothing as they continued down the passage, their footsteps echoing off the dank walls.

"So… you're a Parselmouth," Tom said, clearly trying to sound nonchalant rather than panicky.

"Oh… yeah," Harry said awkwardly. His instinct was to not tell Tom any more than he already had, but the big secret was already out, as stupid as that had been. Now that the moment was past, he could think of a hundred lies that would have worked just as well as the truth. Exposition couldn't do any more damage. "I talked to the portraits and my tutor about it, and they thought that Mum must have some wizard blood in her somewhere way back, because the Potters have never had one before."

"Then why haven't I got it?"

"I dunno: why have I got black hair and you auburn? It's all random, I figure."

"Hmph. But—"

"Shh!" Harry interrupted. "There's the entrance." The most recent turning had brought them to a dead-end, but a dead-end with two enormous stone snakes with giant emeralds for eyes carved on it. Harry's throat went dry. 'Just think of it as a practical exam,' he told himself.

"Ssssppffysthxfpstss." Tom sounded as if he was gargling.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, filled with confusion.

"Trying to speak Parseltongue," Tom replied defensively.

The whole situation was so ridiculous that Harry had to laugh. "No, no, no. Here's real Parseltongue," he said, and looked back at the carved snakes. No need to pretend these were real: their glittering eyes seemed full of malignant intelligence. _"Open,"_ he said, in a low faint hiss.

The serpents twisted and parted as the wall split open, and the two halves slid smoothly out of sight. Harry and Tom stepped into the Chamber of Secrets. They faced a long, dim chamber. Pillars shaped as serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in the greenish gloom that permeated the place. Harry drew his wand and squinted around. Where could the Basilisk be hiding? And where was Ginny, moreover?

They crept down the center of the long chamber, not quite back to back. Harry could hear his breath rattling in his lungs, and his eyes were watering from squinting so much. As they neared the far end of the enormous space, details became evident: against the wall they faced, an enormous statue loomed at them. Harry craned his neck up to examine the emaciated face, the meager beard that drooped almost to the enormous feet… and between those feet lay a tiny figure with a smear of vivid red hair: Ginny.

"There she is!" Tom shouted, rushing forward. Harry followed slowly, keeping a wary eye out for any sign of the Basilisk. "Harry, come help me! She's so cold… is she Petrified? Or dead?" At this, he did hurry, putting his wand down next to him as he knelt next to his brother. Ginny was indeed very pale and cold, but he lent over her and felt a faint breath stir the hair around his ear. He was just about to share this news, when Tom suddenly shouted out, "Tom!"

Confused beyond reason by his brother calling his own name, Harry sat up straight and looked around. Lo and behold, a tall, slim youth stood just nearby, leaning on one of the pillars. He twirled a wand between his long fingers. Was that…? Was that Harry's wand?

"Who're you?" he asked sharply, rising up into a half-crouch.

"Harry, this is Tom Riddle, I told you about seeing him in the diary. Tom, you've got to help… we need to get Ginny out of here." He bent back over the girl, trying to haul her off the ground.

Harry didn't look away from Riddle. There was something about the boy that had his hackles up. He was smirking unpleasantly, and was far too relaxed for the situation. Not to mention, his outline seemed— blurry, somehow. And how did he have Harry's wand? It had been right next to him….

"What are you?" he asked suspiciously. "A ghost?" He could see that wasn't right, but he couldn't think of anything else.

"Close: a memory," Riddle corrected, smirk widening. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years." Harry glanced down towards Ginny, and noticed for the first time the small black book with little gold letters that lay near her. That solved the burglary, at least. But…

"Harry, come on!" Tom insisted. "The Basilisk could come at any time! We've got to get Ginny out!"

Brought back to the moment by his brother's urgency, he turned and helped heave Ginny up onto his back for a jury-rigged piggyback.

"Tom, come on!" Harry was having a hard time hearing his brother say his own name. "You need to get out! Didn't you hear? There's a _Basilisk_ down here!"

"It won't come until it's called," Riddle said nonchalantly, hitching himself away from the pillar.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry demanded, placing himself between the two Toms on pure instinct.

Riddle's smile widened. "Stand aside, boy," he said. "You are not the one I'm interested in."

"That's nothing new," Harry snapped.

"What d'you mean 'the one you're interested in'?" Tom demanded loudly, pushing past Harry and crossing his arms. Harry staggered under Ginny's ungainly weight and toppled to his knees. Pain exploded in both kneecaps, and his calves went numb. He let Ginny slump to the floor next to him. They were still at the feet of the enormous statue.

"I've waited a long time for this, Tom Potter," said Riddle. "For the chance to see you. To speak with you."

"We can't talk here," Tom protested. "This is _The Chamber of Secrets!"_

"We _are_ going to talk now," Riddle retorted, sliding Harry's wand up his sleeve.

Through the haze of the pain in his knees, something was bothering him. "Why—How did Ginny get like this?" he asked. She wasn't dead, thankfully, but nor was she Petrified. She might have been in some kind of coma, but she bore no sign of injury... He tried to stand, but his numb legs couldn't hold his weight, and he fell to the stone floor again.

"Well, that's an interesting question," Riddle said pleasantly, turning to Harry. "And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley's like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked worriedly.

"The diary," said Riddle. _"My_ diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes: how her brothers _tease_ her, how she had to come to school with second-hand robes and books, how she didn't think famous, good, great Tom Potter would _ever_ like her…" Riddle's gaze slid back to Tom, and his eyes were hungry. "It's very _boring_ , having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl. But I was patient. I wrote back, I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply _loved_ me. _No one's ever understood me like you, Tom… I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in… it's like having a friend I can carry round in my pocket…"_ Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn't seem to suit him. It rang very wrong in the back of Harry's mind for some reason. "If I say it myself, Tom, I've always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted. I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of _my_ secrets, to start pouring a little of _my_ soul back into her…"

"What do you mean?" Tom asked, sounding as if he dreaded the answer. Harry had some idea where Riddle was going though, and he didn't like it. In fact, this was a rare case when he hoped he was wrong, perfectly dead wrong.

"Haven't you guessed yet, Thomas Potter?" said Riddle softly. "Ginny opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the serpent of Slytherin on those four Mudbloods, the blood traitor, and the Squib's cat."

Harry flinched: he's been right. "No," Tom whispered.

"Yes," Riddle replied calmly. "Of course, she didn't _know_ what she was doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries… Far more interesting, they became… _Dear Tom,"_ he recited, his gaze still fixated on Tom. _"I think I'm losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can't remember what I did on the night of Hallowe'en, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me… There was another attack today and I don't know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I'm going mad… I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!"_

Harry could see his brother's hands balled into fists at his sides, and preyed he wouldn't do anything rash or stupid, though knowing that he probably would.

"It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary. But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And there's there _you_ came in, Tom. You found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was _you,_ the very person I was most anxious to meet…"

"And why did you want to meet me?" Tom demanded, his voice pitched somewhere between strident and terrified.

"Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you, Tom… Your whole _fascinating_ history." Harry watched Riddle's eyes rove over Tom's crescent scar and shuddered at what he saw in his expression. "I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust."

"But—we thought you made a mistake…" Tom gasped. "You framed him…?"

Riddle laughed that high laugh again. "It was my word against Hagrid's, Tom. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so _brave,_ school Prefect, model student; on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls. Bit I admit, even _I_ was surprised at how well the plan worked. I thought _someone_ must realize that Hagrid couldn't possibly be the heir of Slytherin. It had taken _me_ five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance… as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power! And a _Hufflepuff!"_ He scoffed, shaking his head a little. "Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid might be innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed. Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did…"

"I bet Dumbledore knew the whole time! I bet he saw right through you!" Tom yelled furiously.

"Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled," Riddle said casually. "I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn't going to waste those long years I'd spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."

"Well, it hasn't worked!" Tom shouted triumphantly. "No one's died this time! The Mandrakes will be waking everyone up tonight, and you won't be able to hurt anyone else!"

"Haven't I told you," Riddle said quietly, "that killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me any more? For many months now, my new target has been— _you."_

Harry's stomach plunged.

"Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who'd been strangling roosters? So the foolish little brat stole it back. But I knew what I must do. From everything she said of you, and all I knew from your writing, I knew you to be brave to the point of idiocy, unable to bear the idea of a friend in danger... So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. She struggled and cried and became _very_ boring. But there isn't much life left in her: she put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last. I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you'd come. I have many questions for you, Thomas Potter."

"Like what?" Tom spat.

"Well," said Riddle, as if the whole situation were as natural as talking of the weather, "how is it that a baby with no extraordinary magical talent managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did _you_ escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

"How did I… _escape_?" Tom repeated, obviously puzzled. "I… I reckon I just…"

"Our grandma died to protect him!" Harry shouted. His legs were still numb, but he dragged himself forward a bit on his hands, like a pathetic imitator of the snake that was still somewhere nearby, waiting to appear... "There's nothing special about him: leave him alone!"

"Shut up, Harry!" Tom shouted. "Don't get involved: I can do this."

"And why do you even care?" Harry yelled recklessly at Riddle. Anything to keep his attention off Tom: who knew what he wanted to do with him… "Voldemort was after your time!" He had to be, if Riddle had been in Hogwars with Hagrid.

"Voldemort," Riddle said with slow relish. "Is my past, present, and future…" He pulled Harry's wand from his sleeve, and wrote three shimmering words in the air.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

He waved the wand once, and the letters rearranged themselves into new words:

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

Harry's blood turned to ice. "You see?" Riddle whispered. "You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No. I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

Harry's mind was racing in circles. He had to get them out, somehow! But he couldn't walk, not with his legs numb as they were, and Ginny was still unconscious… and if what Riddle had implied were true, it wouldn't even matter if they got her out, because her life was slowly flowing to him.

"You're not," Tom said in a low, furious voice, bringing Harry back to the matter at hand.

"Not what?" Riddle snapped.

"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," Tom said. "That's Dumbledore! Even before you were _born_ , he was amazing, and you never even dared attack Hogwarts because he was here, and he knew you were evil the whole time, and you're still scared of him!" He stopped, breathing hard. Harry had to be a bit impressed with his brother's gumption, but it was still a stupid thing to do: Riddle looked apoplectic.

"Dumbledore's been driven out of the castle by the mere _memory_ of me!" he hissed.

"That's what _you_ think!" Tom shouted, as though that were a legitimate comeback.

Riddle opened his mouth, but no sound came out: music was coming from somewhere. He whirled about to stare down the length of the Chamber, but there didn't seem to be a source, even though it was growing louder and louder. The sound was eerie, alien, and utterly beautiful. It made Harry's scalp tingle and his spine shiver. When it reached such a pitch that he could feel it vibrating around in his lungs, bright flames burst from the top of the nearest pillar.

A bird the size of a swan in brilliant crimson plumage appeared within the flames, warbling its unearthly music to the distant ceiling. It had a sweeping golden tail as long as a peacock's and its glittering talons clutched a ragged bundle. It circled once, then flew straight down over Riddle's head and dropped the ragged thing at Tom's feet. It stopped singing, and perched itself on top of Tom's head.

Harry had recognized it as soon as it came out of the fire, but Riddle was only just catching on: "That's a phoenix…" he said, staring shrewdly at the bird. "And _that,"_ Riddle continued, indicating the bulgy lump at Tom's feet, "that's the Sorting Hat."

Harry didn't know how he could tell that: it was a patched, frayed, dirty swatch of cloth, but that didn't mean it was the Hat.

"This isn't just any phoenix," Tom protested triumphantly. "This is Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix!" Harry didn't see what difference it made whose phoenix it was, honestly.

Then Riddle began to laugh. He laughed so hard and loud that it seemed like there were ten Riddles, a hundred, all of them laughing at once. "This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Thomas Potter? Do you feel safe now?"

"Tom!" Harry interjected desperately. "Give me your wand! Run while you still can, get the teachers! I'll stay and hold him off!" He could almost feel his legs again, like they were ghosts or something. He surely couldn't stand, but he could cast spells from kneeling just as well as he could normally.

"No, Harry. This is what Dumbledore had been training me for. I know what I'm doing." Harry resisted the urge to remind him that his experience with dueling boiled down to tickling Draco in the Great Hall. This was no time for brutal honesty. Tom drew his wand. Harry shut his eyes.

"Going to fight, are you?" Riddle sneered. "In that case, I think I'll teach you a lesson. Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, heir of Slytherin, against the famous Thomas Potter, the so-called Boy Who Lived."

He smirked around at Tom, the phoenix, the Hat, and Harry before strolling a small distance away to stand squarely beneath the statue of Slytherin. Riddle opened his mouth wide and hissed—but it was a language Harry knew.

_"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."_

Harry twisted around and gazed in horror up at the statue's face as it moved and contorted: its mouth was opening wider and wider, and deep inside, something was _stirring…_

"Tom, RUN!" Harry yelled, but his brother seemed glued to the spot. All he did was grab the Hat and clutch it to his chest while the phoenix took his advice instead and flapped off.

He clamped his eyes shut as something huge landed on the floor. But he didn't have to see it: some sense was telling him how the serpent was uncoiling itself and awaiting its master's command.

Then Riddle hissed, _"Kill the smaller one."_

Ignoring Harry entirely, the Basilisk slithered towards Tom.

 _"Stop!"_ Harry's scream became a hiss and a snarl. He didn't know if the snake would listen to him, but what else could he do? He was crippled and wandless, and his brother was in danger. _"He is not your prey!"_

Riddle turned to him in amazement. "Another Parselmouth? How unexpected… But it matters not. The Basilisk responds only to its master."

Desperate, Harry turned his attention to Riddle instead. "Call it off!" he cried. "You don't want Tom anyway, Tom's nothing, he's no one! He's—he's not even The Boy Who Lived!"

"And who is?" Riddle asked dryly. "You?"

"Yes!"

Riddle's eyes glittered at him, so exactly like a snake's that Harry's neck prickled. But then, "Nice try, boy. The Parseltongue might be telling, but not even _I_ believe Dumbledore could have made such an elementary mistake." And he turned back to Tom and the Basilisk still approaching him.

Harry watched despairingly as Tom, eyes closed tight, inched his way sideways around a pillar, trying to stay out of the serpent's trajectory, the Hat clutched in one hand and his wand in the other.

Harry was just about to yell for him to use the damned thing when the phoenix—Fawkes—dove down from near the ceiling and started to claw at the Basilisk's eyes, those famed and feared yellow avatars of death. The serpent gave a terrible screech of rage and pain, and began to flail, trying to dislodge the bird from its face. There was a squelching, ripping sound, and a splatter of dark blood formed under the Basilisk's head. It twisted and writhed, and Harry caught a look at its face full on: its eyes were gone. Fawkes had torn them out.

 _"No!"_ Riddle screamed. _"Leave the bird! Leave the bird! The boy is behind you! You can still smell him! Kill him!"_

The Basilisk swayed, wounded and confused, but still very deadly. And Tom—Tom, instead of doing anything _smart_ , or _useful_ , just went and jammed the damned Sorting Hat down over his head, as if subscribing to the 'if I can't see it, it can't hurt me' philosophy. All of a sudden, he staggered sharply and yanked the thing back off. What Merlin's name was he—?

There was something in the Hat. A silver something that glinted red in the dim light… Tom, wide-eyed and pale, pulled the thing from the ratty cloth. It was a sword. How the…?

Riddle was still screaming: _"Kill the boy! Leave the bird! The boy is behind you! Sniff – smell him!"_

Harry watched in amazement and horror as the Basilisk's fang-filled mouth spread so far open it might have swallowed Hagrid whole and lunged towards Tom. But Tom had the Hat's sword up, and he met the snake's downward plunge by stabbing up into the roof of the monster's mouth.

Just for a moment, as the enormous snake toppled over, Harry allowed himself to feel just a glimmer of hope: if the snake was gone, they only had to deal with Riddle! They could get out, they could—

There was a fang in Tom's arm. Paler than ever, the boy slid down against a pillar, feebly yanking the poisoned tooth out of his arm and letting it clatter to his side.

"No… no, no, please, Tom, no!" Harry shouted, straining against his useless legs to reach his brother. Fawkes gave a mournful cry and circled in to land next to Tom, laying his head just above the puncture wound. Riddle sauntered over and stood, looking down at the dying boy. Harry let his head sink to touch the ground. They had failed after all. _He_ had failed… he should have made Tom stay back with Delf, or at the rockslide, or…

"You're dead, Thomas Potter," Riddle said, immeasurably pleased. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter? He's crying."

Harry's head jerked up. Crying! He began to smile.

"So ends the famous Thomas Potter," Riddle crooned. "Wounded and broken in the Chamber of Secrets, with equally broken and useless allies and tools, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You'll be able to see your dear granny now, Tom… you've lived out eleven years of borrowed time… but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must."

Tom twitched his head back and forth and heaved a deep breath. Harry's smile began to spread into a legitimate grin. They weren't done, not yet!

"Get away, bird," Riddle said suddenly. He was finally realizing. "Get away from him. I said, _get away!"_ He leveled Harry's wand at the phoenix and there was a loud bang. Fawkes took to the air in a swirl of scarlet plumage and indignant squawking.

"Phoenix tears…" Riddle said quietly, staring at Tom's arm. "Of course… healing powers… I forgot… But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. I'm nearly at full strength: killing you will be no problem."

And all of a sudden, Harry knew what to do. He reached over Ginny's prone form and snatched up the diary. "Tom!" he shouted. Both of their heads came up. "Throw me the fang!"

Their expressions changed simultaneously. Riddle's was filled with a fury akin to the rage of the blinded Basilisk, while Tom's was puzzled but trusting as he snatched up the sabre-like tooth and tossed it to Harry. Easily catching it one-handed, Harry raised it high above his head. He locked eyes with Riddle, and plunged the incisor directly into the centre of the little book.

An ear-splitting scream seared through the Chamber, there was a blinding flash, and when he'd blinked the spots from his eyes, Riddle was gone. Harry gasped and slumped to the floor, panting with relief and pain. His legs were starting to come properly awake and were getting a wicked case of pins and needles.

Tom staggered to his feet and made his way to Harry. "Did you see that?" he asked breathlessly. "We just killed Voldemort! Again! I mean, for me again, but for you the first time—and a Basilisk! Merlin!" He was babbling. Probably in shock.

"Mm-hm," Harry murmured, tight lipped. His legs were really starting to hurt.

"And—Harry, did I hear—did I hear you right, that you said you're the—The Boy Who Lived? Why would you say that? Why would you—?"

"Lying," Harry gritted out. "Obviously. Trying to distract him so you could use your _bloody_ wand for something useful—"

Just then, Ginny began to stir next to him. "Ginny!" Tom shouted, rushing around Harry and kneeling next to her. She moaned quietly, and sat up, casting a puzzled glance around the Chamber until her gaze landed on Tom and Harry. Her eyes welled with tears immediately.

"Oh, _Tom,_ I'm—I'm sorry, I t-tried, I _tried_ to warn someone, b-but I _couldn't,_ it was me the whole time, but I—I didn't _mean_ it, R-Riddle _made_ me, he t-took me over, and how did you k-kill that th- _thing?_ And where's Riddle? The last thing I remember is him coming out of the diary…"

"It's alright. Riddle's gone. You're safe now," Tom said with a grave authority Harry would have laughed at in another situation. As it was, his legs felt like they were being stabbed with a million tiny knives. It was a lot like regrowing his arm bones. He clutched the spots just above his knees and moaned, carefully curling up into the fetal position.

"Get up, Harry," Tom said brusquely. "We need to go back to Ron and Lockheart."

"I can't walk," Harry replied through clenched teeth.

"I just got bitten by a Basilisk! Stop whinging and get up. Honestly…"

"No one was asking you to do anything but sit there and get cried on when you got bitten," Harry said defensively, but he stood up all the same. He rolled his ankles and bit his lip as he endured the last shooting pains. "Alright, alright, let's get the hell out of here." So they made their way to the far end of the Chamber, Fawkes flapping ahead, Tom supporting a still-sniffling Ginny, with Harry, who barely remembered to grab his wand on the way out, limping behind. The doors hissed shut as they left the place. _Good riddance to bad rubbish,_ Harry thought.

The way back seemed remarkably short. They reached the rock-fall in almost no time, and Ron had even cleared a good-sized hole near the top of the blockage.

"Ginny!" he shouted as soon as he saw the three of them coming down the passage. He thrust his arms through the gap and helped her through first. "You're alive! I don't believe it! What happened?"

"We'll explain later," Tom said firmly, clambering through the hole himself.

"But—"

"No, really: later," Harry agreed, glancing meaningfully at Ginny as he followed his brother through the opening. He doubted a detailed play-by-play would help her feel any better.

"Hey, wait: where's Lockheart?" Tom asked, looking around curiously. Harry blinked. He's put such effort into ignoring the man all year that he'd forgotten he was even supposed to be there.

Ron grinned. "He's not so well. The Memory Charm backfired on him. He doesn't remember a thing about who he is or where we are or anything. I put him back here." He led the way back to the opening of the pipe, where Lockheart perched on the lip.

"Hello," he said pleasantly. "Who are you all?" His hands were folded primly in his lap and he swung his legs back and forth like a little boy out to the park.

"See?" Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"That's great, but…" Harry said. "Has anyone thought of a way out of here?" Tom and Ron looked at each other. "I suppose that's a 'no'," he sighed.

But all of a sudden, Fawkes hopped up on the edge of the pipe next to Lockheart and sort of wiggled his tail feathers.

"This is no time for a mating ritual," Harry said to it sternly. "We need to focus."

Fawkes shook them harder. "I think…. I think he wants us to take hold," Ron said tentatively. Harry looked again.

"You may be right," he said dubiously.

"Well, come on then," Tom groused, and grabbed a handful of brilliant plumage. Ron took his hand, and already had Ginny's hand in a vise grip. Harry took her other hand and a most amazing lightness grabbed hold of him. It was like his whole body had been filled with air.

"Take my hand, Professor—er, Gilderoy," he said, uncomfortable with the necessary familiarity. Lockheart smiled at him vacantly and took his proffered hand.

"Oh!" he said softly, looking gently amazed. Harry thought he could get used to this new Lockheart. But before he had time to think anything else, they were flying up the pipe, much faster than the rate they'd descended. He could hear Tom whooping exuberantly up above, and Lockheart eagerly exclaiming, "Amazing! This is just like magic!"

But long before he'd ceased to enjoy the experience, it was over, and they were spilling helter-skelter across the floor of Myrtle's loo. The sink rose back into place behind them.

"Harry!" Delf screamed, rushing towards them from where she'd been pacing near the door. "You're _bleeding!_ Are you alright? What happened?"

"I knew you'd like that," Harry muttered, disentangling himself from Lockheart, who had landed squarely on top of him. "I'm fine. I just hit my head. We should get to McGonagall's office though. I take it Roderick hasn't come?"

She shook her head. "No. Either all the professors disappeared, or no one believed him that Tom would actually be stupid enough to go into the Chamber of Secrets."

"Hey!" Tom protested.

"Let's not debate semantics," Harry said placatingly. "Let's just go find everyone."

They left the bathroom and made their way through the empty castle, footsteps echoing loudly off the walls. Tom, of course, pushed to the lead, with Ron and Ginny hurrying after, leaving Harry and Delf to shepherd Lockheart at the back. When they got to McGonagall's office, Tom pushed the door open without hesitation.

None of the people inside seemed to realize anything had happened: Roderick was gesticulating angrily to Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape and Flitwick, all of whom looked something between mournful and resigned and ashamed; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat by the fire. Mrs. Weasley was crying noisily. Lily sat in the corner, her face the colour of bad milk while James paced back and forth in front of her.

"We're back!" Tom announced loudly. Everyone looked up at once.

 _"Ginny!"_ Mrs. Weasley shrieked, and hurled herself upon her daughter.

"Tom!" Lily screamed, launching herself at her younger son.

What followed was a confusing mess of shouted greetings and hugs and tears and demands for explanations. These last soon drowned the rest out, and everyone calmed down enough to listen quietly.

Ginny cried again as she explained her part, poor girl, but Harry had to laugh when Mr. Weasley said in flabbergasted tones, _"Ginny!_ Haven't I taught you _anything?_ What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself _if you can't see where it keeps its brain!"_

Tom took over the narrative soon after, and of course most of it was superfluous exposition about how he had suspected something was going on the whole time, blah blah blah but then he got to the bit in the Hospital Wing.

"…so then I asked _him_ how he knew it was snakes, and he said—"

_"Tom—!"_

"—he's a _Parselmouth!_ Um…"

There was a silence. Harry shut his eyes.

"He's a what?" Lily asked, more puzzled than disbelieving.

"Yeah," said Harry heavily. "Thanks a lot, Tom. I've known for about five years. I tripped over a snake when I was nine. Didn't seem important enough to tell anyone."

 _"Didn't seem…"_ James repeated faintly. "Merlin…"

"So we went to the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets—which is Moaning Myrtle's loo—and went down inside and Lockheart tried to wipe our memories because we found out his books were fake, and the ceiling caved in, so Harry and I had to go on alone, and Ginny was there, and Riddle was there—"

"Riddle? I thought he was in the diary," McGonagall said.

"Yes, but he'd come out because he was taking Ginny's soul or something," Tom explained clumsily. "And anyway, he was going to kill me, but then Fawkes came with the Hat, and then he called the Basilisk, but Fawkes blinded it and the Hat gave me this sword, so when the Basilisk tried to eat me, I stabbed it instead, and it died, only one of its fangs got stuck in my arm—" He proudly displayed the tear in his robes. "—and I was going to die, but Fawkes cried on me and healed me, and I gave Harry the fang and he stabbed the diary—"

"Why did he do that?" Lily asked. Tom shrugged and looked at Harry.

"Er." Harry wasn't used to being the centre of attention like this, and stumbled a bit before he got out, "I just thought that since the diary was the link between him and Ginny, severing it would remove his power." That sounded believable, he hoped.

"Yeah, and then he disappeared—Riddle did—and Ginny woke up, and Harry was whinging about his legs, but we came back out and got Ron and Lockheart and came here."

Snape frowned at Harry. "What did you do to your legs?"

"I just banged the nerves on my kneecaps. Pins and needles. I'm fine now."

"My," said Dumbledore mildly. "It sounds as if you've all had quite an evening." If that wasn't the understatement of the century, Harry would eat the Hat. "But now, I think it would be in Miss Weasley's best interests to go down to the infirmary and have a nice hot cocoa. I always find that cheers my up immeasurably." Harry glanced between Delf and Roderick. Delf rolled her eyes, while Roderick discretely covered his mouth to prevent his grin from showing. "Molly, Arthur, Ron, Minerva, perhaps you'd like to escort her?" They left, Ginny still clutched to Mrs. Weasley's chest.

"So," said Dumbledore, peering keenly over his half-moon spectacles right at Harry. "A Parselmouth. That interests me."

Harry shifted uneasily. "I, er, talked to my tutor and the portraits about it… they reckon Mum must have something really old in her, since there's never been a Potter who has it."

James glanced at his wife with a faintly accusatory air.

"Hm. That would not have been my first intuition…" Dumbledore murmured.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked suspiciously.

But even without his memory, Lockheart managed to stop him from learning anything: "OW!" he yelled suddenly, leaping away from some small, sharp object on McGonagall's work table, sucking his finger.

Rather than reacting with concern like a normal person, Dumbledore chuckled. "I think it would be best if our Professor Lockheart went to the Hospital Wing as well. Tom, you're looking peaky too. Lily, James, perhaps you want to go down with him. Filius, perhaps you could escort our former Defense professor down to make sure he doesn't hurt himself again. And Severus, if you could please write to Azkaban, I believe we are unaccountably short a gamekeeper."

All the persons named dutifully filed out, leaving Harry, Delf and Roderick with Dumbledore. Tom glanced at him with a combination of confusion and jealously as he left, but made no other protest.

"That wasn't very subtle, sir," Harry said once the door had clicked shut.

"Perhaps not," Dumbledore admitted easily. "But I want to talk to you, Harry." Harry bristled at the familiarity. He wasn't Tom, and stabbing a book with a tooth did not change that. "Mr. Malfoy, Miss Greengrass, would you be so kind as to leave Harry in my care temporarily?"

Delf's expression hardened. "No offense, Professor, but I don't think I want to do that," she said, tone verging towards disrespectful. "I've had quite enough of letting him do everything alone today. And anything you say, he'll tell us, so we might as well just hear it first-hand."

Dumbledore looked mildly astounded.

"And I want them to stay." Harry backed her up quickly. "She's right. I would just tell them everything."

The Headmaster blinked. "Very well. Really, Harry, all I want is for you to tell me your version of everything your brother already said."

"Well, I mean, he gave a pretty complete—"

"Harry, I think you and I both know your brother well enough to say that is not true. He's a well-meaning child, and will grow up to do very important things, but he is quite excitable. Your opinion is all I ask."

Harry was trying to cast his mind way back to October when he'd first heard the Basilisk when he felt it: a _ripple_ in his mind… Dumbledore was using _Legilimency_ on him, the rotten wizened old bastard! He immediately focused his mind on rejection and defense, forcing Dumbledore's mind away.

Harry glared at him furiously. Dumbledore's blue eyes were very wide.

"Harry, what—?" Delf said just as the door banged open behind all of them. Lucius Malfoy had entered the scene. _Just_ what they needed. Dobby trailed after him, looking even more miserable and woebegone than Harry had seen before.

"So," the elder Malfoy hissed. "You've come back."

Harry quit listening right then because Delf was plucking at his sleeve, so he moved away to talk to her. "Yeah?" he said quietly.

"What happened just there? You were going to say something, but then you turned white as a sheet and gave Dumbledore this really evil look."

"He used Legilimency on me!" he hissed, still enraged at such a massive breach in etiquette and trust and plain old ethics.

"He did not!" she gasped, eyes going from the hazel of concern to the burning orange that usually meant someone should duck and cover. "Are you sure? It's been a long time since Master Jerome did that with us…"

"No, I'm sure," Harry said grimly. "Master Jerome wasn't trying to hide what he was doing, that's the only difference. Dumbledore was… sneakier about it. It still felt the same. And I picked it up faster than you or Roderick."

"I know, I know… it's just… is that even _legal?_ Shouldn't there be rules about how it can be used?"

"You'd think, wouldn't you? We can check with Master Jerome this summer. He obviously didn't know I'd be sensitive to it, or he never would have tried. That seems to indicate he's not supposed to…"

"Yes, but what do we do? Who would believe the Headmaster of Hogwarts used Legilimency on a student to try and exhort information?"

"Exactly no one," Harry replied grouchily. "But I don't think we should say anything even if that weren't the case. We should just be cautious, and not trust him."

"I thought we didn't do that anyway."

"Well, even more so after this."

"We're going, Dobby!" Mr. Malfoy's voice cut through their concentration like a hot knife through butter, and they turned to watch the blonde man stride out the door, kicking his house elf the whole way. Dobby's squeals of pain could be heard echoing all the way down the corridor. Harry glanced at Roderick out of the corner of his eye, and wasn't surprised to see his face was twisted with fury and revulsion.

But suddenly, a light seemed to go on behind his friend's eyes. He quickly stooped and ripped off his shoe and sock. He abandoned the shoe on the floor, but he took the sock with him as he approached McGonagall's desk.

"This is his," he said, lifting the ruined diary up off the polished wood. "I'm going to return it to him."

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed. Roderick gave him a look that clearly said 'I wasn't asking permission', but didn't verbalize the sentiment before he followed his father out the door. Delf and Harry went to the door as well, but stopped on the threshold, recognizing that whatever Roderick was doing was important and that he could take care of it.

Roderick and his father wound up being too distant for their would-be audience to really hear what was going on, but body language is a powerful asset, and they were both putting it to good use. Roderick thrust the book towards his father, throwing his head back arrogantly. Lucius took the diary as if it were a smelly dead Grindylow. They exchanged some words, and then Mr. Malfoy tossed the ink-drenched diary to Dobby, turned on his heel, and marched off down the hallway. Roderick made a small gesture to Dobby, and Dobby let the book fall open. It took Harry a moment to realize what the limp thing he lifted off the pages was.

"Oh, Merlin…" Delf gasped, grabbing Harry's elbow.

It was the sock Roderick had just taken off.

"That was genius," Harry whispered.

The following scene was not a pleasant one: when Mr. Malfoy realized what had happened, he literally looked like he might explode. He raised a hand as if to strike his son across the face, but Dobby raised his own hand and did something that created a loud bang and sent Lucius reeling back down a set of stairs. He had no choice but to retreat after that, though his look promised severe retribution for Roderick later on. As soon as he was gone, Dobby threw his arms around Roderick's waist and began wailing shrilly how grateful he was. Harry and Delf rushed forward.

"That was so clever!" Delf exclaimed, hugging him tightly.

"Yeah, we were down there and I actually said it was genius," Harry agreed, grinning.

"Thanks. I did think my dad wanted to kill me though," Roderick replied, smiling weakly.

"So Dobby," Harry said, grinning down at the tiny elf. "How does it feel to be free?"

Tears were still pouring down Dobby's face, but his smile just radiated joy. "Dobby is the happiest elf in the world, Harry Potter, and all because Master Roderick freed him!" Roderick looked abashed, which Delf teased him about, and Dobby disappeared soon after, with that same loud crack as before.

And then there was a feast. Harry had been to a good number of Hogwarts feasts before, but this one topped them all: for one thing, everyone was in their pajamas and dressing robes, since it had somehow managed to become night time during their ordeal in the Chamber and talking to Dumbledore. For another thing, it went all night, with endless rounds of dessert and singing and the twins setting off sparklers. Harry had a difficult time deciding what part he liked best: was it when Tracey came in, alive, well, and very much de-Petrified, making Roderick look the happiest he had for several months? Was it when Hagrid came in around 3, none the worse for wear after his stint in Azkaban? Was it when Professor McGonagall stood up and announced that final exams were canceled? Was it when it was put about that Lockheart couldn't come back the next year, even though he'd known that previously? Or was it when Delf fell asleep on his shoulder and he and Roderick drew squiggles of custard across her face?

The rest of the term finished off normally enough, though there were a few differences: Defense Against the Dark Arts was canceled, which gave Harry, Delf and Roderick a chance to catch up on studying to be Animagi, which they'd fallen seriously behind on because of all the snake research. Mr. Malfoy was kicked off the board of governors of Hogwarts, making Roderick even more apprehensive about returning home for the summer.

But soon enough, summer it was, and it was time again to pack their things and head for the train.

"I can't believe Gryffindor won the Cup," Delf complained as they dragged their trunks down towards the train. After everything had calmed down to some extent, it came out that Tom and Ron had both been awarded 200 House points, while Harry had also gotten 200, and Delf and Roderick had each gotten 50. Gryffindor came out 44 points ahead, so they got the Cup. Delf was still bitter.

They found a compartment with Tracey, Zadie, and Cedric, and the ride home was relaxed and fun.

 _"Next_ year," Harry declared, "everything had better be normal." Roderick laughed at him.

**Mini-Chapter: Dumbledore**

Watching the students leave was always odd. Each passing year was like a wave on the beach, making minute changes, but leaving it essentially the same. Dumbledore wasn't sure where the thought came from, but it was surpassing true.

The door creaked open behind him, and soft footsteps announced Severus' arrival. "You called for me, sir?" the man inquired.

"Yes, I did." Dumbledore turned away from the window and its view of departing students to face the Potions Master. "I find myself conflicted."

"…Conflicted."

"Quite. In fact, I've been troubled about this for some time, but it's recently become more acute, and I was hoping to suss out the root of it."

"What is it?"

"The Potter boys."

"Ah."

"Indeed. Tom is, of course, The Boy Who Lived. That was established years ago, and he has done nothing to dissuade me of its truth. Harry, on the other hand… Severus, what do you make of the boy?"

"I?" Snape paused. "I find him intelligent and respectful and as opposite from his father as it's possible to be."

Dumbledore's mouth lifted into a small smile. "A point of great appreciation to you, I don't doubt. A shame they look so similar. And I'm sure you also appreciate the Basilisk skin swatch he brought for you. I agree with the assessment, though I would add he is stubborn and loyal and very proud in his own way. However, his character is not what concerns me. What concerns me is that he continually gets involved in situations logically best left for his brother to deal with."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Last year with Quirrell and Voldemort… he said it himself in the Hospital Wing: I was expecting to have that conversation with Tom. And this year: going into the Chamber with Tom and Mr. Weasley and Gilderoy. The boy troubles me, Severus, and not because he is stubborn or intelligent or loyal. You were there that day in Minerva's office. Lily and James had no idea he was a Parselmouth, but his friends showed no surprise whatsoever. He represents a number of unknown factors. What else is he hiding? Or omitting? I confess: I tried a touch of Legilimency on him because he was so reticent, and he sensed me immediately! His power, Severus… it is unformed as yet, but it is immense. He has made it clear that his only motive was to keep his brother safe, but better men than he have been lured by jealousy and greed into things better left alone. Riddle is one example. I'm seeing some disturbing similarities between the two."

"Headmaster, don't be hasty. Potter's upbringing may not have been ideal, with a younger brother like that and a father who's worse, but it's no Muggle orphanage. And he has real relationships, and close friends. Do not assume the worst from the scant clues we've been given."

"I do not call Parseltongue a 'scant clue', Severus. The last known one was Riddle himself. I am beginning to wonder if, after Voldemort was vanquished by Tom, some of his powers might not have attached themselves to Harry as his soul fled…"

"But sir, he wasn't even in the room, you know that. They found him in the passageway with half the roof on top of him. It would be more logical to assume that about the younger one."

"I realize that, but the evidence counters it quite neatly."

"So essentially, you have a thousand questions, and not a single satisfying answer."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Essentially, yes."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> I know this is all pretty close to canon again, and I'm sorry if that's frustrating. Basically this is the first fic fire1 and I ever worked on and we weren't very confident with plotting. But obviously year 3 is going to change a lot because Sirius isn't in Azkaban, so I hope you'll hold out for that.
> 
> (Also I put in a really quick fix at the end of the last chapter: ya'll were right that giving Hermione so many of the answers was unrealistic, I just felt bad for stealing her thunder. It's not too different, but hopefully less egregious now.)
> 
> Chapter 14, "The Trouble With Egypt", will go up two Saturdays from now. I'm taking next week off just to make sure that the year three chapters are all in good shape and not missing big chunks. Thank you for your patience!
> 
> Half credit for this story goes to my friend fire1: we developed and outlined this idea together and there's no way it would exist without her. She's posting it on Ao3, so go give it some love there!
> 
> All characters are owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros, etc.
> 
> E.I. signing out
> 
> [Update: thanks to everyone who pointed out that I should have been saying Legilimancy rather than Occlumency. Goofy mistake on my part, all better now!]


	14. A Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FYI, this is one of my favorite chapters. This are said that need to be said.  
> Fire1-

_A Murder_

 

Harry and Sirius took a Portkey out of Egypt on the evening of the 30th, directly to the room in the Leaky Cauldron Sirius had written ahead to reserve. Straight away, Sirius went to get reacquainted with some of his favorite clubs while Harry, who was too queasy to eat anything, rolled directly into bed and zonked out.

 

-o-

 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!!!”

 

Harry woke up to see Delf about to land on his stomach. “UAAGHH!!! Ow…”

 

“Hahahaha!” That was Roderick, of course.

 

“What time is it?” Harry mumbled, sitting up and making Delf slide off him. The room was blurry and dim since he wasn’t wearing his contacts, but he could make out his friends easily enough.

 

“Nearly seven,” Delf said cheerfully.

 

“I slept till seven?”

 

“ _Nearly_ seven,” she corrected him.

 

Roderick was grinning down at the pair of them. “Up and at em, mate, the day’s half over!”

 

“Yes, we’ve got birthday things to do!” Delf agreed. “Roderick, get him dressed. We’re going to have birthday breakfast downstairs, and then open birthday presents, and then get birthday tattoos!”

 

“Merlin, can I take a birthday piss first?” Harry asked, swinging his legs off the bed.

 

Roderick laughed as Harry fumbled on his nightstand for his contact lenses. “Well, get on then if you want him dressed, Delf,” Roderick said lightly. “Though with his reputation these days, I doubt he’d mind if you stayed.”

 

Harry, who had managed one lens, saw Delf scowl at Roderick and hurry out. “What reputation?” he asked, putting in his other contact.

 

“Well, you’re a casanova now, you know. Everyone knows about your American fling last year because of your brother, and Katie had nothing but good things to say.” He shrugged. “They’re laying bets on who you’ll date this year.”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” Harry protested, crossing to the wardrobe and pulling out a shirt and trousers. “There was no ‘fling’ in Ireland, and Katie… well, why would anyone be laying bets?”

 

His friend shrugged again. “Couldn’t tell you. But speaking of… no dishy Egyptian girls catch your fancy?”

 

Harry snorted. “As if pranking with the twins and staying clear of my family weren’t enough to do, you want me chasing girls—?”

 

“Wait.”

 

Harry looked up at him, startled.

 

“Stand up straight.”

 

Harry did, utterly mystified. Roderick looked oddly concentrated as he stepped closer. He put a hand on top of his head, and moved it forward till it hit the top of Harry’s forehead. Realization dawned and Harry grinned as Roderick groaned piteously.

 

“I’m finally taller than you!” Harry crowed triumphantly as the other boy sat on Sirius’ bed and buried his face in his hands.

 

“What’s going on in there?” asked Delf’s muffled voice from the hallway. “Honestly Harry, you’re taking longer to dress than I usually do!”

 

“Delf, come in here and see! I’m taller than Roderick!”

 

“It’s just not right,” Roderick groaned. “I shouldn’t have to look _up_ at my best friend.”

 

“What, shall I just go about on stilts then?” said Delf, who had come in behind Harry and heard Roderick’s lament.

 

“Yeah,” Harry said as he turned to her. “Then you can…”

 

The thing about having bad eyesight is that it takes a couple tries to realize that things that have looked the same suddenly… don’t. Without his contact lenses in, Delf had been a blur of brown hair-colour and pale face-colour above a smear of white and green, which were her top and skirt. Now that he could see properly, he realized the skinniness he’d always known had become slimness and grace, that her hair had a newfound luster and curl, and that her clothing, no different from what she usually wore, accentuated curves he’d never seen before. He found she was very pretty. Beautiful even.

 

“Merlin,” he said stupidly. “Since when were you such a stunner?”

 

Her face was instantly bright pink, and before she quickly turned her eyes away he saw they were gold and hazel, happy and worried. But then Roderick let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Copped on, have you?”

 

“What do you—?” Harry began, but Delf interrupted by dragging Harry out of the room by his wrist.

 

“Nothing, nothing!” she declared. “We have birthday things to do, let’s go!”

 

First on the agenda was birthday breakfast, consisting of underdone eggs, greasy bacon butties and strong tea. Harry kept having to do little double-takes at Delf, sure that his eyes were somehow tricking him and she was going to laugh quite soon and undo this enchantment that seemed to be on her. As they were sitting down, a slip of parchment fluttered out of Roderick’s back pocket and landed on the ground. “Wosh ‘at?” Harry asked around a forkful of egg.

 

“It’s from Sirius,” Roderick replied, studying the note. “ _Meet me at Bigby’s parlour at 11. Hopefully I won’t have a hangover by then. Have fun in the meantime. Happy birthday, Harry. Sirius._ That’s odd, how did that get there?”

 

“Must’ve wiggled in your pocket when you sat on his bed,” Delf suggested. “Well, that’s useful at least. Gives us a timeframe to work with.”

 

“Yeah, four whole hours and no plans for them,” Roderick said dryly.

 

“Hello, _you_ were the one who wanted to leave so early, if I recall,” Delf cut in. “All that about being grounded forever and the only way to get out was to sneak out? Sound familiar?”

 

Harry frowned across at their suddenly frowning friend. “Have things not got better then?” he asked, unsure if there was a delicate way to phrase the question.

 

“No,” Roderick said shortly. “I don’t’ reckon it’s a good birthday topic.” Harry let the subject drop and there was a minute of awkward quiet, a rare occurrence for their trio.

 

“So, um, I left your gift at my house, Harry, since I figured we’d end up back there anyway. I hope that’s alright,” Delf said, breaking the silence with a much more welcome issue.

 

“No, of course I don’t mind. I had assumed the same,” Harry said, smiling at her. For some reason she blushed again.

 

“You’ll have to take being taller than me as my gift,” Roderick groused.

 

Harry grinned broadly. “You’d better get used to it, because I don’t feel like giving this gift up! Best gift ever!” Roderick smiled lopsidedly at his plate.

 

They wandered out into the Alley after breakfast, taking in the early-morning sights and greeting shopkeepers they knew. They meandered into Flourish and Blotts after a time, and spent a few hours poring over tomes full of obscure magical creatures, a habit from the previous year. Roderick declared himself sure of seeing an etching labeled as a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, but they couldn’t find it when they flipped back through.

 

Eventually, it neared eleven, and they followed the half-remembered side-alley till they came upon the faded sign declaring Bigby’s Magical Tattoo Application Parlour. They had a few minutes before Sirius could be declared late, so they waited about outside in the wan sunshine.

 

“Oh!” Delf exclaimed after a short while. “I suppose I should give you these.” She dug in the pocket of her skirt and withdrew a few sheets of folded parchment, which she distributed to Harry and Roderick. Harry took it eagerly. He’d seen the draft she’d sent him in Egypt, but that had been rough and sketchy, more to see if they all liked the idea than to represent what they would actually get. These were much better. Delf was a talented artist, and the job she had done on the three stylized crows in flight was superb. Upon closer examination, he saw that one had a dot of green for its eye, another had a dot of grey, and the third was gold.

 

“Delf, this is amazing!” he said admiringly. “I can’t wait to see what they look like.”

 

“Where to you think you’re going to get yours?” Roderick asked them.

 

“I was thinking right here along my arm, opposite from my dragon,” Harry replied, indicating his inner right forearm. “What about you, Delf?”

 

“Along here,” she replied, running her finger along the right side of her ribs and waist. “Easy to hide that way.”

 

“Do you not have permission?” Harry asked, confused. How was she planning to go through with this without being allowed?

 

“I’m a rather good forger, Harry,” she replied, pulling a fourth sheet of parchment from her pocket and waving it under his nose. Harry caught a glimpse of a passing good copy of her father’s signature below a short note.

 

Harry held his hands up to say ‘I surrender’ and went back to examining the drawing as Delf asked Roderick, “What about you? I somehow doubt your dad gave permission for this.”

 

“No, naturally not,” Roderick replied. “Sirius and I are some sort of cousins. He’s allowed to speak for me.”

 

“Delf, your eyes just changed colour!” Harry exclaimed suddenly.

 

They both looked at him quizzically. “Is that news?” Roderick asked.

 

“No!” Harry said impatiently. “On her picture, her bird’s eyes did!”

 

“They did _what_?”

 

While Roderick and Delf had been talking and Harry examining the birds, Delf’s one’s eyes had changed quite suddenly from the gold of happiness to a very green hazel, for excitement and anxiety. “How?” he demanded of her, consumed by curiosity.

 

“Um… well, it’s not strictly _allowed_ , what I did…”

 

“And?” said Roderick, obviously just as curious as Harry. He could practically hear the twins muttering ‘ _Ravenclaws…_ ’.

 

“Basically, what it is was, I added a drop of blood before doing the eye on each of mine. So that it would be connected to me, you know, and change when I did.”

 

“ _Delf!_ ” Harry shouted incredulously. “That’s _blood_ magic!”

 

“Ssshh!” she hissed, glancing about nervously. “I _know,_ you idiot. Do you think I—”

 

“There’s the birthday boy!” called a jovial voice from behind them. They turned in unison to see Sirius striding up from the direction of The Leaky Cauldron. “Sorry I’m late,” he continued as he reached them and slung his arm about Harry’s shoulder. “Had a spot of trouble convincing myself to wake up this morning.” He finally noticed how tense his three young charges were. “What’s the matter?”

 

“Delf did blood magic in these,” Harry said in a low voice, lifting the sketch gingerly.

 

Sirius looked surprised. “But you’re fourteen,” he told her.

 

“I know,” she muttered, blushing furiously.

 

“That’s not the point!” Harry exclaimed. “It’s against the law! Sacrifice-based magic was banned centuries ago, and—”

 

“And I’m sure whatever she put in your tattoos is perfectly benign and will matter not a whit to anyone,” Sirius interrupted.

 

“But you’re an Auror! It’s your job to keep the law!”

 

“No, that’s the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I catch Dark wizards and witches. And now that I’ve finally got you three, I’m taking you straight to the custody of Randolph Bigby. In we go.” And he summarily grabbed Harry and Delf by the scruffs of their collars and dragged them through the door, with Roderick coming along behind, laughing his head off.

 

“Bigs!” Sirius called as they filed into the tiny reception area. “I’ve got clients!” But just as last time, it was a skinny blonde girl sitting behind the counter, that Gryffindor student  in the year above them, Nita Linese. “Oh! Morning,” Sirius said cheerily. “Bigs not in?”

 

“He’s just finishing with someone,” Linese said quietly. “Done in a minute.”

 

“Jolly good then! Hm… I don’t guess you know the application spells, do you?”

 

Harry thought her lips almost turned up at the sides. “He won’t teach them to me.”

 

“What rubbish! I’ll have a word with him, never you fear!”

 

Just then the elderly velvet purple curtain behind the counter shifted aside and revealed Mr. Randolph Bigby himself, still small, still bald, and still scarily muscled. And his skin was still covered with all manner of twisting, moving wizard tattoos. He ushered out a couple in their twenties who held hands and giggled as they went out and didn’t pay Harry or his friends any mind whatsoever.

 

Bigby sniffed at them, perhaps disdainfully, and then jerked a nod at Sirius, and said “You wrote. All of em?” Harry noticed through the sudden surge of excitement that Linese had disappeared.

 

Sirius nodded, grinning so widely Harry suspected his face was about to break in half. “Each and every. I’m paying.”

 

Another curt nod. “Who’s first?” he asked, fixing his gaze among the nervous and excited trio.

 

“Me,” said Delf immediately.

 

“Hey!” Harry protested. “It’s my birthday.”

 

“And my drawing,” she returned promptly. “I want to see if it works.”

 

Harry huffed unhappily but subsided and they filed into the back room.

 

“Image?” Bigby said, seating himself on a low chair in the corner and twirling his wand, the same as last time.

 

Delf handed him the page and he examined it with a professional eye. “Yours again?” he asked, tapping the sheet.

 

“Yes,” she replied.

 

He nodded approvingly. “Good.” Delf looked immeasurably pleased. “Where?”

 

She untucked her top from her skirt and repeated the gesture she’d shown Harry and Roderick, only now on bare skin. She held her shirt up to bare her ribs as Bigby began the muttered incantations Harry remembered from his dragon. She held her shirt up to bare her ribs as the little birds began to flap and stretch on the parchment. She held her shirt up to bare her ribs as Roderick elbowed Harry and he realized he’d been staring. He turned away, hot in the face and blinking quickly, so he missed the moment of application when the ink bonded to her body. All he heard was a high squeak, and then a giggle, and by the time he was enough in control of himself to turn back around Bigby was tapping various places to see how the ink-birds reacted. They were flapping about establishing their territory and opening their beaks in silent shrieks and caws. One had grey eyes and two had green: one for Harry and one for a very excited Delf. Bigby grunted his satisfaction and Delf lowered her shirt, smiling hugely.

 

Harry went forward next, pulling up his right sleeve and handing his page over. Since he could see what the man was doing this time, unlike with his dragon, and Delf wasn’t distracting him, he paid very close attention to what Bigby was doing, but the man spoke too low and fast for Harry to really make out what he said. The shock of application was less this time, probably because the birds were smaller, but he still jumped a little at the shock when the page slapped against his skin and the ink bonded. Bigby examined his work, poking at it here and there to see how the birds responded, and Harry looked on with vast satisfaction. Even if it was blood magic, it was wicked cool, and getting something that represented him and his two closest friends just felt right.

 

Roderick was up next, and as he handed his drawing over, Harry saw him gulp nervously.

 

“It doesn’t hurt,” he reassured his friend.

 

“Well, it sort of does,” Delf amended, and Harry glared at her.

 

Roderick chuckled. “I know, I know.”

 

“Where?” Bigby grunted.

 

Roderick took a breath and pulled up his left sleeve. “There,” he said, indicating his inner forearm. It took a second for Harry to realize the significance of the placement, but when he did his eyes widened. That was just where a Dark Mark would go, like Mr. Malfoy had. Sirius seemed to have realized the same thing, and he reached forward to touch his young cousin’s shoulder. “Right on,” he murmured.

 

Bigby made no comment as he began his incantations, but Harry thought he saw a glimmer of respectful approval in the man’s eyes.

 

Roderick yelped as the application spell took hold, and looked on with some trepidation as Bigby checked his handiwork and declared it sound. Indeed, he seemed a little dazed as Sirius paid and they trooped back out into the Alley.

 

They all had their crows now. They were a proper murder.

 

“We’re supposed to meet the others at the Leaky Cauldron at one,” Delf announced cheerfully. “What do we do till then?”

 

“Ice cream,” Roderick said. “That’s all I want right now.” Sirius laughed and agreed, and they all turned towards Florean Fortescue's.

 

“Speaking of ‘the others’,” Harry said, piggybacking on Delf’s previous comment. “You and Oliver again, eh? How’s that? And since when?”

 

“Oh,” she scoffed. “Not even three weeks. We ran into each other again here at the Alley because I wanted a complete version of Leonard Aldopold’s _Compendium of Magical Reptiles_ just for the satisfaction’s sake, and he started talking at me and in the end I agreed to go out with him again just to get him to stop his mouth. We’ve only seen each other twice since then.”

 

“That’s not real gossip,” Harry complained.

 

“I never said it would be,” she replied peevishly.

 

Roderick and Sirius were demonstrating they were related again by laughing behind him and Delf, though the reason was completely lost on him. Giving up understanding their joint sense of humor as a lost cause, Harry turned his attention back to Delf. She really was extremely pretty all of a sudden, and it made him both nervous and excited, though those weren’t _quite_ the correct words. He couldn’t exactly say just what she made him feel, but it was different from the warm affection and appreciation he had always had for her friendship. His mind flew back to the summer of two years ago, when he alone had a new tattoo from Sirius. He suddenly started to grin.

 

“Hey, Delf…” he said, and she looked up sharply, hearing his sly tone.

 

“What?”

 

“Does this tickle?” He reached out and poked her ribs, right where she had her murder. She squeaked loudly and danced out of his reach, trying to cover the area in danger from his grasping hands. A short chase ensued, she screaming bloody murder as she attempted to avoid him, and he laughing and shouting in pursuit.

 

Roderick finally told them to knock off, looking strangely impatient as he did, and Harry restrained himself and only tickled her five times as they sat outside Florean Fortescue’s and ate sundaes.

 

They met Tracey, Cedric and the twins at the Leaky Cauldron a little later, and they all set off back up the Alley, laughing and shouting and having a merry old time. Sirius had to run off for business, he told them, but he would meet them at the Greengrass’ that evening. Harry and the twins shared all about their Egyptian adventures, including the pub incident, and Percy’s mysterious pink hair, which had yet to revert to its usual colour. Cedric spoke at length about a Quidditch club he and a few others in his year had started. Tracey went on about her Muggle aunt and uncle and three cousins visiting, and how she’d had to hide practically all of her things in the linen closet to uphold the Statute of Secrecy. Delf had stories about her brother and sister to share, which they all enjoyed. Roderick laughed at everything but shared nothing, Harry noticed. Not a good birthday topic indeed.

 

At about five, they all trooped back towards the Leaky Cauldron to go to Delf’s house for supper. Roderick and the twins were in front, talking in low voices and sending Harry furtive glances every so often, which he decided to ignore. Tracey and Delf were behind him and Cedric, and as they passed the lingerie shop which had so unnerved them on Harry’s eleventh birthday, he heard Delf whisper to Tracey, “You know, if you want Roderick to make a move, that would be a good place to start,” followed by some indignant spluttering and promises of revenge on Tracey’s part. Harry grinned to himself. Maybe something would _finally_ happen for those two this year.

 

Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass were excellent hosts, as usual. Dwight had been banished to his room for the day because he’d cut all of Astoria’s hair off the previous night. The mortified girl wore a knitted hat to cover it, but brown tufts stuck through the wool. Sirius and Remus were there, and Mrs. Greengrass made treacle tarts—Harry’s favorite—and they had him open presents on the back lawn as the sun sank towards the horizon.

 

Eventually, their friends began leave. First Cedric, then the twins, and finally Tracey went into the smaller sitting room and Flooed away. Sirius and Remus had left some time ago, citing work and the need for sleep by way of apology. Harry was reluctant to leave, as ever, and Roderick got downright depressed at the idea, so they sat out under the stars and talked about the lessons they were to start with Master Jerome the next day. They reckoned they were about ready to do their Animagi transformations, and wondered what else the month would bring.

 

But even this reprieve had to end. Stuffing his presents into his trunk, including the three-part silver frame, traditional scrapbook, new set of contact lenses and a singing toilet seat, he bid farewell to his friends and Mr. Greengrass, as his wife and second daughter had already retired upstairs for the night. Flooing with a trunk was tricky business, but he spun away just as the clock began chiming ten.

 

The clock was striking ten on the mantle in Potter Manor too as he stepped out of the fireplace, heaving his trunk out of the ashes behind him. He’d been hoping his family would all have been asleep by the time he got home, but Tom immediately scuttled those. He was seated on the sofa, polishing what looked like a brand new broomstick.

 

“Evening,” Harry said tiredly, going towards the door.

 

Behind him, Tom cleared his throat loudly. Harry ignored him. He had had a very long, very pleasant day, and the last thing he wanted was to get into some nonsense argument with his brother. But Tom cleared his throat again and inquired, “Don’t you have something to say to me?”

 

Harry sighed and turned around. “Nice broom.”

 

Tom somehow managed to look both pleased and peeved at the same time. “It is, isn’t it? It’s a Firebolt, see? Not actually out till next week. But that’s not what I meant.”

 

“Then what did you mean, Tom?” he asked, cloaking his rising impatience behind exaggerated good manners.

 

“You weren’t at my party. _Everyone_ was here for it. Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic were, and your friend Cedric and the Weasleys. We all had a lovely time. But you weren’t: aren’t you at least going to wish me a belated happy birthday?”

 

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, “No,” he said. “I’m not. I sent you a gift and wrote you a card. Isn’t that enough?”

 

Tom stood up and crossed his arms. “No,” he replied petulantly. “I want to hear it in person.”

 

“Or maybe you should say it to me,” Harry suggested coldly.

 

Tom frowned. “Why would I do that?”

 

“Do you even know what day it is?” Harry shouted, temper flaring high. “Damn you Tom, you’re so self-centered! Your birthday was three days ago! You don’t need me to wish for it to be happy! It’s not that special!”

 

Just then, Lily appeared in the doorway that led out to the foyer. Her expression was enough to tell that she’d heard the correct part of her elder son’s exclamation to be furious.

 

“ _What_ did you say to him?” she shouted.

 

“Merlin’s bleeding beard,” Harry cursed, raking his fingers through his hair in a gesture of desperate exasperation.

 

“And what is _that?_ _”_

 

He blinked at her livid face in confusion, and then glanced down at his arm. Oh. Raising his hand had caused the sleeve of his robe to fall back, revealing his new tattoo. That was an error on his part.

 

Well, she had seen it. No point in pretending now. “It’s a tattoo,” he said, making sure to sound matter-of-fact and not at all defensive. He knew there was no way he was getting out of this without a serious verbal drubbing, but he wasn’t going to make her think he thought he deserved it. “I got it today with my friends.”

 

Lily drew a deep breath. “Harry, I have had it up to here with you,” she said grimly, making no indication of where ‘here’ was. “Your continuing blatant disrespect for our family must stop. We’ve come to accept that you don’t care for us. But for God’s sake, don’t you value our reputation?” The resigned disappointment in her voice might have been painful if she had made any sense. As it was, it simply made Harry angry.

 

“I fail to see how getting a tattoo applies,” he said flatly.

 

“Damn it Harry, you’re being purposefully obtuse!”

 

And then James arrived. He was had on a scruffy dressing gown and a quill dripped ink on it from its perch behind his ear. “What’s the matter, Lil?” he asked, looking as if he’d rather not know. Harry silently put his trunk down. This was going to take a while.

 

“Harry,” she glared at her son, “has gotten a new tattoo, in unabashed contempt for our opinions and the way it will reflect on us as a family.”

 

James frowned at him sternly. “I thought we had made our views on that very apparent after the first one.”

 

“You did,” Harry agreed through gritted teeth.

 

“Then I’m really at a loss. We let the first one go, allowing for Sirius’ involvement, but two is more than enough. You’re still our son, Harry, and a part of this family, of which _I_ am the head!”

 

“And he didn’t even wish his brother happy birthday when he got in,” Lily supplied. Tom sniffed righteously.

 

“ _I can’t believe this,”_ Harry hissed furiously.

 

“Harry, the core tenet of any family should be unity,” James intoned, tucking his hands behind his back in a manner suggesting the imminence of a long lecture. “Over the past few years, you have demonstrated very clearly that you do not want to be a part of this family. You routinely disobey your mother and me, with the tattoos, and the girls, and you’ve done nothing but demean your brother ever since he started at Hogwarts.”

 

Harry’s stomach was roiling sickly and he was afraid to open his mouth for what he might say.

 

“And that’s the heart of the problem, isn’t it? You resent your brother. Don’t try and deny it.” James raised his hand to quell the protests he assumed would come, but all Harry could do was sneer. ‘ _Let them think that then,’_ he thought savagely. ‘ _If they want to invert every problem we have and make it my fault, they won’t listen to me if I correct them.’_

 

“You’re a teenager, and we made allowances for your actions because we expected some rebellion. But your behavior has simply been childish: you sneak away when we go out as a family, you constantly incite arguments with Tom, and you reject us when we try to bond with you. What have we done to cause you to stop loving us?”

 

At this, Harry could take no more. “I don’t love _YOU?_ ” he shouted incredulously. “How many of my birthdays have _you_ forgotten? My seventh was first, remember? Yes, you got my eighth, well done, but my ninth? Tenth? _Eleventh?”_ Lily flinched, eyes wide and nearly fearful at Harry’s outburst. “You’ve missed all of them since then, if I’m not mistaken. Remember last year, when it was ‘don’t bother Mum today because she has people over and you know how she gets’? Or when I turned thirteen, and Tom got the Cloak? Or _today?”_

 

“And we’re sorry for those, Harry, truly,” Lily pleaded. He had turned the tables and she clearly didn’t like it. “It’s just that Tom’s birthday has become such a political affair that takes so much time and effort to put together that—”

 

“That’s no excuse,” Harry interrupted snidely. “Mine is _after_ Tom’s. All it would take is a couple invitations and telling Tipsy to make a cake, like she wants. I mean, really, I’d be satisfied with a ‘happy birthday’ in the morning.”

 

“And we’re going to make it up to you—” Lily started, but James overrode her. For so long now, Lily had been the one spearheading the ‘Harry is a bad and rebellious son’ campaign while James simply hoped it would all die down, but now it seemed the roles were reversed: Lily had simply wanted to tell him off and go to bed, and James was the one with a bone to pick. Evidently he didn’t like his elder son talking back to his wife.

 

“If all of this ridiculous behavior is simply you telling us you’re angry at us, then you can stop right now, Harry. You’ve made it perfectly clear. So you need to stop with the tattoos, stop picking fights with your brother, and stop being so damned competitive. You’re not only reflecting badly on yourself, but on us as a family.”

 

 _“_ _Family?”_ Harry repeated. “The only important thing to you is looking good for the press and keeping Tom famous. _I_   sure don’t feel any love from you! The Greengrasses are more like my parents!”

 

Lily looked as if she’d been slapped in the face, but James only looked offended. “How dare you say something like that? You’re our son: of course we love you. It’s just that with Tom being who he is, we sometimes have to make sacrifices.”

 

“Sacrifices like not taking your elder son to the train station to go to Hogwarts for the first time? No, Tom had an interview, which both of you had to attend as well, apparently. No ‘good luck, Harry, you’ll do great, we’ll miss you!’ It was ‘oh, Sirius, we forgot Harry has to leave today, and we’re busy: could you take him?”

 

“Well, Sirius was teaching that year, it made sense—” James blustered.

 

“And the year after that?” Harry challenged angrily. “Even though Sirius wasn’t teaching, he took me again.”

 

“Your mother was ill and I had work, you know that. You’re being hysterical!”

 

“Last year! You took the day of for _him_. You came to see _him_ off. Kissed _him_ on the forehead, told him good luck, shed a tear or two.”

 

“You’re letting you jealousy of your brother blind you to our situation, Harry. It’s time you grew up and accepted that some things in life are less pleasant than others.”

 

“Oh, I would laugh if I weren’t furious,” he snarled. “I’m jealous alright. You know what of? You know _everything_ about Tom: his best friends, his favorite dessert, anything. I bet you even answered his letters, didn’t you. And considering all the _narcing_ ,” he glanced hotly at his brother, who had faded into a corner and looked shocked and wilted, “there have been a lot. _I wrote you in first year!_ Many times! And I got back a Christmas note and five Galleons, thank you for that, it obviously showed a lot of care and forethought.”

 

Lily had been quietly sobbing for the past few minutes, but it suddenly burst into a noisy crescendo, and she crossed to the sofa, hands over her mouth to try and quiet herself. Harry felt a twist of guilt coil tight in his stomach. _Fantastic,_ he thought. _Now I feel bad, just because I’m telling the truth._

 

“Do you see what you’re doing to your poor mother?” James demanded, going to his wife and taking her hand. “She doesn’t deserve any of this! We’re your parents and you don’t seem to respect us at all. That has to change.”

 

“Sure, great parents,” he sneered. “Great parents to the child they had on purpose, perhaps, as opposed to the accident baby you wish you’d never had! How was it Mum, to graduate Hogwarts six months pregnant as Head Girl? Were you embarrassed? Ashamed, perhaps? You wish I didn’t exist because then all the stuff you do to make Tom look like the heir would actually count for something! The Cloak, for example. The Cloak that’s supposed to go to the eldest son? The one Melody Peverell brought to the family? Even with two boys, you might have said ‘you need to learn to share this at school’ or ‘take turns’, but no, pass it right one to Tom as if I don’t exist. And now I’m a ‘bad child’ and ‘rebellious’ because you’ve realized you don’t know a damn thing about me! You don’t even realize when you’re playing favourites! Oh, yeah, great parents alright. You can’t love someone you don’t know!” Lily stifled a moan as more tears poured down her cheeks.

 

“Of course we know you!” James protested over Lily’s crying. “You’re our son. Stop with that nonsense about us not wishing you were born.”

 

“Oh, you know me, do you? Favourite colour? Favourite class? Best friends’ names? Go on, tell me,” he challenged.

 

“Well, blue, for Ravenclaw, obviously,” James said.

 

Lily looked up with swollen, hopeful red eyes. He could almost see her thinking that there might be a way to redeem the situation, their whole relationship, if they can guess these few questions right. “Yes, blue,” she agreed eagerly.

 

“Wrong: it’s Delf’s happy eye colour. And if you bothered to get to know my friends the way you do Tom’s, you would know what that means. But I assure you, it’s not blue. Favourite class?”

 

“Charms?” Lily suggested tentatively.

 

“Transfiguration,” James guessed.

 

“No. I’m tied between Defense and Potions.”

 

“But _Snape_ teaches Potions,” Tom protested, speaking up for the first time since starting the whole thing. “ _Snape.”_

 

“And if you weren’t an arse, you’d know he’s nice to people he respects,” Harry snapped.

 

Lily did something between a sniff and a whine.

 

“Favourite dessert?” he carried on inexorably. _This_ was the time for everything to be set right. They would finally realize the depths of their neglect and his hard, deep anger would be vindicated. And if things were too wrong to set right again, well… he would at least have won moral superiority.

 

“Chocolate cake,” James said, sounding less hopeful.

 

“No, that’s Tom,” Lily put in guiltily.

 

“Ah, something right at last,” he said sarcastically. “I like treacle tarts. In fact, Mrs. Greengrass made us some only a few hours ago when I went there for my birthday.” He paused to let that sink in. “Favorite book?”

 

 _“_ _Quidditch Through the Ages_?”

 

“No, that’s your one,” he told James.

 

“ _The Source of Magic in the British Isles_?” Tom piped up.

 

“No,” said Harry, moderately surprised. “I only read that for Master Jerome. How did you know that existed?”

 

“I saw you carrying it around,” the younger boy mumbled.

 

“ _The Picture of Dorian Gray_?” said Lily, growing tearful again. “I saw that on your desk once…”

 

“No, I read that because my friend Tracey thought it might have been based on a magical portrait a Muggle saw by accident. She wanted a second opinion. No, it’s _The Tales of Beedle and the Bard_.” James looked vaguely affronted at his choice of a children’s book as a piece of favoured literature, but Harry charged on. “Favourite thing to do at home?”

 

“Running?” said James.

 

“Close,” said Harry.

 

“Reading?” said Lily.

 

“Close,” said Harry.

 

“Cooking with Tipsy,” said Tom.

 

“Actually, yes,” said Harry, blindsided. “How did you know that?”

 

“You were making midnight breakfast once when I came down for water. I heard you tell her so. ‘Cooking with you makes coming home worth it,’ you said. I heard you,” he accused.

 

“And it’s true,” Harry replied. “Now, my best friends?”

 

“The Weasley twins?” James asked weakly.

 

“No,” Lily interrupted. “It’s the ones he studies with. One of the Greengrass girls, Daphne, and the Malfoy heir.”

 

“Malfoy!” James shouted, fury renewed by old grudges. “They’re bastards, what do they have to do—”

 

“If you had _asked_ about my tattoo,” Harry overrode him loudly, angrily, “at the beginning of this stupid argument rather than flying off the handle about it, you would know that it represents me and my friends, and that _Roderick Malfoy_ got his where a Dark Mark would go specifically to stick it to his dad. Don’t you dare prejudge my friends. The Blacks were Dark until Sirius inherited, remember? And next time you think I’ve gone and dishonoured the family, just remember that you’re wrong! I don’t want to best Tom at anything, and I’m not dragging our name through the mud! You can’t call me a disappointment just because you’ve realized I’m not dependent on you. You know nothing about me, and it’s your fault.”

 

James’ furious expression had melted into something resembling shame as Harry shouted at him, and he sank onto the couch next to Lily, who was openly weeping again. With a funny lurch, Harry recognized the gesture of James running his hand through his hair: it was the same as the one he’d done to start this whole thing.

 

Without another word, he picked up his trunk and left the room, guilt tying his insides in knots as his mother’s sobs followed him up the stairs.

 

**Mini-chapter: Tom**

 

The last ringing echoes of the argument had finally died away. Tom stood in the corner, clutching his broomstick, for once forgotten by his parents. Dad had taken Mum upstairs to bed, both of them shell-shocked and shamed by Harry’s outbursts. He was having a bad time wrapping his mind around what had just happened. There were some things about their family that he had never had to question, things like what it meant for him to be who and what he was, and how that might affect them, and why anyone should be anything but supportive of him. Over the years Harry had demonstrated quite beyond a wisp of doubt that he felt no affectionate ties for them. Had he been pretending to hate them all that time? Why, then, couldn’t he have simply talked to Mum and Dad before, rather than blowing up in a fury? Mum and Dad were reasonable people. True, they did tend to forget Harry’s birthday, and that was pretty bad… but couldn’t he understand that it wasn’t meant meanly or anything, it was just eclipsed by Tom’s own birthday?

 

A soft clattering sound in the kitchen caught his attention, and he leaned his Firebolt against the wall and went to investigate.

 

Tipsy was on the floor, a small plate and several chocolate biscuits strewn across the flagstones in front of her. She was crying quietly and looking at a cut on her knee. From this evidence, Tom deduced that she had tripped and dropped the plate, and that was the noise he had heard. As he watched, Tipsy took a deep breath and drew her finger across the cut, and the skin sealed beneath her touch. Tom had always felt a bit bad for house elves because they didn’t get wands like wizards, but they couldn’t want them too badly if they could do stuff like that.

 

He moved to go, mystery solved, but the noise made her look up, eyes wide and startled under that silly sparkly crown she always wore. “Oh! Master Thomas!” she squeaked. The way she talked always made Tom uncomfortable—the high pitch, the third person—it was like she was talking to a baby or something, and Tom Potter was _not_ a baby. “Tipsy did not see Master Thomas there, Tipsy is sorry,” she continued, scrambling to pick up the plate and biscuits and put them in the bin and sink. “What is it Tipsy can do for Master Thomas? Perhaps some milk? Or biscuits?”

 

“Yes, both,” Tom said, who had realized that he was rather peckish. Stress made him hungry, and that was a lot more stress than he’d had to deal with in a long time. He went to the table and sat at his usual spot while Tipsy went for a new plate and set the biscuits out. He bit off a piece of one as she got the milk. She went so scrub some dishes at the sink after she gave him the cup, and something abruptly occurred to him. “Tipsy, you weren’t taking those biscuits for yourself, were you?” he asked sternly, trying to sound how he imagined his dad did when confronting law-breakers. “Stealing from your Master’s family is very wrong.”

 

She seemed to shrink into herself. “N-no, Master Thomas, Tipsy would never do that, Tipsy would never st-steal. Tipsy is a good elf who is loyal to Master P-potter and his family, yes she is.”

 

“Then who were the biscuits for?” he demanded, pushing the milk aside. “Tell the truth now.”

 

“They w-was for Master Harry, Master Thomas,” the elf replied faintly.

 

“Harry? Why?”

 

“Master Harry said many hard truths tonight,” was the solemn reply. “Master Harry said things which hurt Master and Mistress Potter and young Master Thomas, which he did not wish to say. He never wishes to hurt his family, Master Harry doesn’t.”

 

Tom scoffed. “‘Master’ Harry doesn’t give two straws about hurting us.”

 

Tipsy turned from the sink to face him, and he was startled and discomfited by the gravity of her expression. “That is not true, Master Thomas. Master Harry cares for his family very very much. He does not say so when Master and Mistress hurt him for that would shame them. He stops Master Thomas from detentions at Hogwarts. He is so good to Tipsy. Tipsy is always sorry that Master and Mistress do not know him more, for then they would have to love him.”

 

“They _do,_ ” Tom protested. “They’re our parents: they _have_ to.”

 

She went to the cupboard and took down a new plate. “As a son,” she allowed. “But not as a person. Master Thomas is the Boy Who Lived, and the world loves him for that.” She collected more biscuits out of the pantry and arranged them on the plate. “But Master Harry is _good_ , and that also is deserving something. Good night, Master Thomas.” And she left to take Harry the biscuits. Tom sat in the kitchen and thought for quite a long time.

 


	15. Summer’s End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is more of wrapping things up and introducing new story lines.  
> Fire1-

_Summer’s End_

 

Meditation was never more necessary. He’d only done two laps before plopping down under the apple trees to try and calm his writhing mind. He did not regret anything he’d said the previous night. Indeed, he felt vindicated, freed, and very light. But he knew his family would not share his relief. He’d dumped a lot of difficult stuff on them that evening, and there was no guarantee that they would take any of it lying down after having a night to mull it over. He didn’t want this to become an extended war between them all. As good as he felt just then, it might have been better to keep his tongue behind his teeth. Tipsy and her chocolate biscuits had been welcome, and he couldn’t help but wish, as he often had before, that getting on with him mum, his dad, and Tom was as easy as getting on with Tipsy and the portraits.

 

The sun was a dim foggy glow some inches up the sky before he’d calmed his raging anxiety enough to feel even a little confident about facing them. Even if it didn’t turn out well, even if they disagreed and wanted to keep arguing the point, he felt good about what he’d said.

 

So he tromped around from the orchard to the south door and pushed his way into the kitchen.

 

He immediately wanted to leave again.

 

James and Lily sat at the table, wrapped in dressing gowns and strained silence. The atmosphere was oppressive. But they both looked up from their tea when he came in, so he was prevented from backing out unnoticed.

 

“Harry, good morning,” Lily said tentatively. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her smile weak. Harry cringed. They were being careful with him again. He might have preferred more arguing to this.

 

“Good morning,” he replied nervously, crossing to floor to help Tipsy at the stove.

 

“How did you sleep... sweetheart?”

 

“Well,” was the awkward answer. “Thanks.” This was stupid. It was a playact to help them pretend everything was alright, and it was painfully familiar from years of forgotten birthdays and neglected promises. But they were trying, he supposed. And really, he didn’t have to play along. He could be honest, he didn’t have to hide behind false sentiment. He was gathering his nerve to bring up the previous night when Tom appeared in the doorway to the dining room and said sleepily, “Kingsly’s head is in the Floo, Dad.”

 

“Who? What? _Why?”_ James asked in rapid succession as he rose quickly from his chair and dashed out. Lily got up and followed him, and Harry went after them as well, stirring a mug of tea.

 

James was kneeling in front of the fireplace when Harry came around the doorjamb. He was holding his glasses in one hand and pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. Not good news then.

 

“What is it?” Lily asked, and James looked up bleakly.

 

“Peter escaped from Azkaban.”

 

Harry nearly dropped his tea as he and Tom simultaneously lunged forward to catch their mother, whose knees seemed to have given out. They shared a glance which established her new destination to be the sofa rather than the floor and started helping her over to it.

 

Kingsly’s deep voice emanated from the fireplace as Harry and Tom laid Lily on the sofa. Tom patted her hand anxiously while Harry went behind James, the better to hear Kingsly.

 

“…some time between nine and twelve last night, no one knows how. Of course, it’s Azkaban, isn’t it? Inescapable fortress…” He grimaced. “Apparently not. The Minister’s personally involved with this one, of course, and he thinks you’ll be safer here, since your family's more than likely his prime target. Reports say his mind has been… going recently. Apparently he's been muttering about the 'bastard baby', so it's safe to say he blames Tom for his incarceration. There’s no predicting what he might do. Fudge wants to see you in twenty minutes in his office to talk tactics of capture.”

 

“Tell him I’ll be there,” James said firmly, and Kingsly’s head disappeared.

 

“How did he get out?” Lily whispered from the sofa. “We made so sure… James, how could this happen?”

 

“Kingsly just said he didn’t know, Mum,” Tom said knowledgeably, and Harry rolled his eyes. Tom needed to learn to hear when something was rhetorical.

 

“We can talk more when we get to the Ministry. Right now, let’s all get dressed.”

 

“Wait, you’re serious about going there?” Harry asked in confusion. The three others looked at him blankly. “I mean, it’s only Pettigrew, right? It’s not like the Lestranges broke out.”

 

“Harry, Pettigrew is the one who betrayed us!” Tom said angrily. “He’s an evil Death Eater, and he wanted You-Know-Who to kill me!”

 

“Yes, I know, but You-Know-Who is gone, and it’s not like he can betray us again, right? He’s a servant, completely ineffectual on his own.”

 

Tom spluttered incoherent disagreement as James said, “Be that as it may, he _did_ just escape from Azkaban, the highest security prison known to wizard-kind. And that _is_ a problem.”

 

“Fair point,” Harry allowed, realizing with some surprise that he was involved in a perfectly civil, intelligent conversation with his family, for the first time is recent memory. A little external drama worked wonders for internal trauma, he supposed. “But I’m not going to spend all day at the Ministry, sorry. I’ve got tutoring starting today.”

 

“Harry, we are all his targets. It’s safe at the Ministry!” Lily sounded slightly hysterical.

 

“I’d bet Tom’s his main target, probably. And it will be safe at the Greengrass’ as well. He spent over a decade in prison: I doubt he knows who my best friends are.”

 

“But—!”

 

“It’s fine, Lil, he’s right,” James said unexpectedly. Harry looked at him in suspicion and surprise.

 

“I am?”

 

“Yes. Go to the Greengrasses for the day. We’ll send an owl when we’re back home, and you can join us then, okay?”

 

Harry blinked. “Okay.”

 

“I want you to leave first. Are you ready? We have to be gone in fifteen minutes.”

 

In response, Harry finished his tea in two large, hot gulps and handed the mug to his dad, then grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and threw it over the ashes. “Greengrass Manor,” he said clearly, and spun away.

 

The Greengrass’ secondary sitting room settled into place in front of him, and it struck him as funny and slightly ironic that he’d left that very place barely ten hours before. So much had changed in that time. It felt like another year.

 

Roderick and Delf were in the two armchairs facing the fireplace, and they both looked up expectantly as the green flames faded.

 

“Harry!” Delf squealed happily. She swiftly unfolded her legs and patted the chair she was on, inviting him to sit next to her, smiling hugely the whole time. Her eyes were shining gold, for happy. He’d been improvising the previous night when he’d claimed it as his favorite colour, but now he decided he’d been telling the truth after all.

 

“Morning,” he said, grinning at her enthusiasm. “Have I ever got news.” He squished in to the armchair beside Delf so that their hips and legs were pressed together, and put his arms around her shoulders.

 

“We only saw you nine hours ago, Harry,” Delf reminded him.

 

“Is this going to be like the time Lockheart did your arm?” Roderick asked wearily. “And you came out of the Hospital Wing talking about Dobby and Petrifications and the Chamber of Secrets and everything?”

 

“Yes, exactly like that,” Harry agreed. “Firstly, I got in a huge fight with my parents, but I think it ended up alright, which is really strange.”

 

“Lucky,” Roderick muttered.

 

Harry grimaced sympathetically. “Did yours see your murder as well?”

 

Roderick’s eyes widened. “ _Merlin_ no! Forget sitting here with you two, I wouldn’t be alive! How are _you_ not dead?”

 

“It was a close thing,” he replied wryly. “But that’s not the biggest news: Peter Pettigrew escaped from Azkaban last night.”

 

Roderick’s mouth fell open, and Delf twisted around to stare at him incredulously. “Are you being serious?”

 

“Oh, thanks. Yes, I am. Kingsly Flooed in to tell us ten minutes ago. I expect it’ll be in the _Prophet_ this morning. Mum and Dad and Tom went to the Ministry for the day, and I’m to stay here until they owl me that they’re home again.”

 

“Wow,” Roderick sighed. “Azkaban. They think he’ll be after Tom then?”

 

“It’s sort of the logical conclusion, isn’t it? I mean, Boy Who Lived and all that.”

 

“Are they assigning you guards?” Delf asked, sounding worried.

 

“Well, it’s a bit like my dad’s Head of the Aurors, you know?”

 

“Right.”

 

They sat in contemplative silence for a short time, each wrapped in similar thoughts.

 

“Well, tutoring,” Roderick finally said, causing Harry and Delf to look up and smile.

 

“Yeah,” Delf agreed eagerly. “I reckon we’re ready to do our Animagi transformations soon.”

 

“Hard to believe this is our last summer with him, though.”

 

“Harry, you buzzkill,” Delf admonished, swatting him.

 

“Well it’s true.”

 

“What will we do with our Augusts after this?” Roderick wondered idly.

 

“Become political dissenters and wander the countryside running from the law?” Harry suggested jokingly.

 

“No thank you!” Delf said loudly.

 

Roderick laughed. “I don’t know, I think that could be interesting. We can get a tent and Apparate around to different places and argue the days away. Doesn’t that sound just charming?”

 

“No,” Delf said flatly.

 

“ _That_ would be something though, wouldn’t it? Us fighting?” Harry reflected.

 

“We’re pretty good at not doing that,” Roderick agreed. “ _Have_ we ever disagreed about anything?”

 

“I regularly disagree when we go getting involved in your brothers’ nonsense, but no one ever listens,” Delf complained.

 

Roderick and Harry laughed. “Quick,” Roderick encouraged. “Let’s have a big row and tell Master Jerome about it when he gets here!”

 

Harry snorted. “As if we need more things to tell him about. Between Riddle and the diary, our Animagi, continuing Occlumency, and whatever else comes up, we have enough for five summers, let alone one.”

 

“Plus, I don’t want to row with you two. Kelly and Amanda and Beverley do enough bickering at school that I’m surprised they have enough energy for anything else. It’s much better to just be friends.”

 

“Really? Being friends? Is that what you’d prefer?” Roderick asked, giving her an oddly direct look. Delf went very pink in Harry’s peripheral vision.

 

“Are you sure you two aren’t—”

 

“Yes, well, why don’t we go upstairs to wait for Master Jerome?” Delf interrupted shrilly, surging up from their seat and making a beeline for the door.

 

Harry stared at Roderick in confusion. “What was that all about?”

 

“Couldn’t rightly say,” his friend replied lightly, but he had an unreasonably smug smile on, and Harry didn’t believe him at all. “Shall we go up to the library then?”

 

“Sure…You know though,” Harry said as they followed Delf into the kitchen and up the stairs, greeting Mrs. Greengrass on the way, “If you keep saying things like that to Delf, Tracey might think you’re not interested.”

 

Roderick chortled. “Don’t you worry about Tracey, she understands what’s going on.”

 

“Wait, is there some conspiracy that everyone’s in on except me? _Is this what you and Lawrence and Will wouldn’t explain to me last year?”_

 

“In a manner of speaking,” Roderick agreed evasively, but by then they were in the Greengrass library, with its concentric Ls of bookcases and the familiar square table, facing two walls of windows.

 

“So Harry, tell us more about Egypt,” Delf demanded as soon as the boys were seated.

 

“Oh, er, alright then…” And so they passed an hour, Harry and Delf comparing notes on interesting summer experiences, Roderick and Harry teasing Delf about Oliver (though Harry was quite serious when he said he’d break Wood’s neck if he hurt her), and all of them sharing notes on interesting things they’d read.

 

“…I mean, three heads? Imagine how much medical magic you’d have to know to even begin to make a curse like that work! Bill Weasley says the ancient Egyptians took more magical knowledge with them when they fell than we have altogether these days.”

 

“A slightly exaggerated statistic, but partially truthful nonetheless,” said a voice from the door, and they all spun about excitedly.

 

“Master Jerome!”

 

And indeed, in sauntered their tutor, dressed just as oddly as ever: he wore tight white trousers, a blue tunic that ended just above his knees, with a red sash and a black vest. Atop his head perched a red hat something between a turban and a fez.

 

“Turkey?” Roderick guessed.

 

“India?” said Delf.

 

“I was going to say Turkey as well,” Harry confessed, drawing laughs from the other three.

 

“Valid deductions both,” Master Jerome chuckled, going around the table and taking a seat. “But wrong. I was in Greece.”

 

His students made faces of revelation at each other, and skooched inwards to hear the tales he surely bore. Master Jerome smiled tolerantly at their excitement.

 

“Greece is a very interesting place, you know,” he began casually. “From what I hear, someone spent a little time in Egypt this summer, true?” Harry nodded assent. “Fascinating place as well, Egypt. I was once there for—hm, another time. The ancient Egyptians were very advanced in two types of magic: martial and medical, as Harry suggested. When they fell, I don’t doubt that it took us many a century to cobble together the things they took with them, and much of it still remains buried in history.

 

“The Greeks, on the other hand, were far more interested in the subtle mind arts, and it is to them that we owe our modern knowledge of Occlumency and Legilimency. Indeed, that set of skills has become their legacy, as nearly all of the magic they were so skilled at was lost with them when they fell, and little of it was ever recovered due to the non-physical nature of their skills. Very sad. A great loss to all of us. And there was no sign of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.”

 

The trio of teenagers allowed the silence to stretch for several long moments before Harry cleared his throat. “So… um… what... made you decide to…  why did you go there?”

 

Master Jerome blinked at him in abundant surprise. “My dear boy, if you woke up one morning and realized that you were fifty seven and had never been to Greece, you would do something about it as well.”

 

Roderick laughed loudly.

 

“So.” Master Jerome made a basket with his fingers and leaned his back head into it. “Besides Egypt, what has happened since last we met?”

 

“We all got tattoos,” Roderick piped up. “Delf drew them.”

 

“Harry nearly died _again,_ ” Delf complained. “I did design our tattoos though, and they’re quite nice.”

 

“I had a possibly productive argument with my parents,” Harry supplied. “And you’re exaggerating Delf, I was nowhere near dying. It was just a bit dangerous for a little while.”

 

“A little dangerous,” Roderick scoffed. “Do you hear that? That’s what he calls You-Know-Who when he pops out of a diary.”

 

“My my my,” Jerome said mildly. “Let’s take these in order of magnitude, shall we? First, I’d like to see your tattoos.”

 

Harry and Roderick obligingly rolled their sleeves back while Delf pulled up the side of her shirt. Harry sternly forbid himself from staring at her, and met with some success.

 

“Nicely depicted indeed, Daphne,” their Master complimented, examining the restless birds flitting about on her skin. She flushed happily. “Roderick, I notice your placement. That’s very brave of you.” Roderick’s expression struggled between pride and apprehension. “Harry, perhaps you would explain its significance?”

 

“It’s us three as crows,for our Animagi forms,” he said. “See the eyes? Green for me; grey for Roderick; gold, currently, for Delf. She did blood magic in them.” He wasn’t sure if he was tattling or simply imparting information, but Master Jerome did not seem unduly concerned anyway.

 

“But dear girl, you’re fourteen,” he said in that gently amazed way of his.

 

Roderick laughed again. “That’s exactly what Sirius said when he heard.”

 

“It wasn’t so hard. It was a little drop of blood, and then Invisible Ink,” Delf muttered. “To make it linked to me, but give it the capacity to change, not just be the colour of when I did them.”

 

Master Jerome looked at her keenly. “You have an excellent intuitive grasp of magic,” he said slowly. “Do nurture that for me.” Delf nodded hard, face burning pink from the praise. Master Jerome allowed them a moment to gather composure before turning to Harry. “Now, this possibly productive argument?”

 

“Yeah, last night,” he agreed, suddenly uncomfortable. He didn’t make a habit of telling his friends every bit of interaction he had with his family, though he knew they inferred a great deal of his relationship with them. “They saw the tattoo, that’s what started it. And it just sort of… expanded. I reckon they can’t ignore me anymore, at least.”

 

“Progress indeed then,” Jerome established genially. “Small but sure steps are always best, I’d say.”

 

“Yeah, though this step was neither small nor sure,” Harry replied ruefully.

 

“Even so. Now, what’s this I hear about Voldemort coming out of a diary and nearly killing our Harry?”

 

Roderick and Delf looked at him expectantly. “What?” Harry asked.

 

“Well, you were there, mate. You know best what happened.”

 

“Oi, Delf brought it up!”

 

“Because it’s important! Even besides you nearly dying—”

 

“Which you’re making up.”

 

“—there was a lot of _really_ interesting magic going on, so please? Come on.”

 

Harry released an exasperated sigh. “Okay, fine. It all started in October…”

 

It was a collaborative effort spanning more than twenty minutes to explain their fourth year to Master Jerome. Harry spoke at length about hearing the Basilisk, and Roderick chimed in on the specifics of Petrification, as he’d spoken quite a lot with Madam Pomfrey during his visits to Tracey. Delf only came in once she could tell about herself discovering the secret entrance to the Chamber. A lot of the rest was Harry’s to tell, though Roderick explained his part in trying to convince the professors to help, and Delf often cut in with variations of “See what I mean? Nearly dead. I ask you.”

 

By the time it was over, the three of them having tag-teamed through Dumbledore using Ligillimency on Harry, the freeing of Dobby, and the midnight feast, Master Jerome wore a look of avid interest and delight.

 

“A younger incarnation of Voldemort, preserved within a book, you say? My my my, Hogwarts has gotten more interesting since I was a student. Children, tell me what you know about the behavior of possessed inanimate objects, please,” he said, switching to lesson mode without warning.

 

“It’s er, when they take on attributes of what’s possessing them, right?” Harry guessed.

 

“Like that time Peeves was in the eagle knocker and made it ask Kelly about her knickers.” Delf sniggered at the memory.

 

“You are—succinctly—correct,” Master Jerome reassured him. “Now, remind me how this diary was acting, would you?”

 

“It wrote back to your brother, right?” Delf confirmed.

 

“And showed him a memory of Hagrid getting expelled, yeah,” Harry agreed.

 

“And it was possessing Ginny, lest we forget,” Roderick said sardonically.

 

“Well, sort of. Riddle explained it in the Chamber: as Ginny wrote more and more stuff in it—private stuff, hopes and fears and all that—Riddle was taking her, her life-force, I suppose. He was able to take over her mind, and eventually drained her of strength and power so that he could manifest physically.”

 

“I see. A possessed object possessing another person. Interesting. Unique, in fact.”

 

“It’s never happened before?” Delf asked curiously.

 

“Not to my knowledge, no… I believe you were dealing with something a great deal more unusual that the run of the mill possessed item.” The trio glanced at each other excitedly. “Perhaps this ought to be a peripheral project of the summer,” Master Jerome said thoughtfully. “Why don’t we research types of magic besides possession which allow objects to be imbued with characteristics of their owners?”

 

“Is this going to be us studying a lot for a month, and then you pull out the answer at the end when we’ve given up?” Roderick asked suspiciously.

 

“Would you prefer that?” Master Jerome sounded perplexed. “I thought you were Ravenclaws.”

 

“We _are!_ ” Delf exclaimed, affronted. “Ignore Roderick, he’s stupid.”

 

“ _You’re_ stupid,” Roderick retorted. “I just meant—you know, never mind.”

 

“Oh, speaking of You-Know-Who,” Harry said,suddenly remembering. “Pettigrew got out from Azkaban last night.”

 

“Ah. An event of great concern for your family especially, I would imagine.”

 

“You might say. Mum and Dad and Tom went to the Ministry for the day for safety, and I’m to stay here until they tell me to come home.”

 

“I’m a little surprised they went so far, honestly,” Roderick admitted. “It’s not as if Aunt Bellatrix escaped or anything.”

 

“That’s what I told them this morning!”

 

“I keep forgetting who you’re related to,” Delf said thoughtfully.

 

“That’s fine.”

 

“I‘ll be frank,” Master Jerome said after a short pause. His tone was chuckly. “I didn’t expect such dramatic events to have transpired in my absence. You three are rapidly becoming interesting.”

 

“Thanks…?” Harry replied cautiously.

 

“Quite. It _was_ meant as a compliment. Now, shall we sort out what to do when this month? We do have a great deal of material to cover, so let’s not tarry…”

 

Over the course of the morning, the month of August took shape. They had a great deal to cover: continuing to explore Occlumency, which Harry was very excited about (the others less so); they were going into their O.W.L. year, so there was a lot of preparation to be done for that since they’d have to start specializing for their careers afterwards; and of course, their Animagi transformations.

 

Master Jerome made them wait three whole days before letting them do that particular magic. Three… long… _agonizing_ … days. In that time, he quizzed them mercilessly on the theory of the thing, and interrogated Harry about his experience seeing James and Sirius do theirs at the henge in Ireland the previous summer.

 

But finally— _finally—_ on the afternoon of the fourth when Delf’s parents and brother and sister were at Diagon Alley, they went outside to the sloping back lawn and prepared to transform for the first time.

 

“Now.” Master Jerome pointed at the ground. “Meditate.”

 

His pupils immediately roused a protest.

 

“WHAT?”

 

“We’ve studied this—”

 

“Oh, _come on!_ ”

 

“—for two years!”

 

“Please?”

 

“Whyyy?”

 

“If you think I’m about to let three very excited, over-confident teenagers attempt some of the most difficult magic known to wizard-kind, then you’re quite dim,” Master Jerome said, unusually stern. Harry, Delf and Roderick wilted a little. “I will, however, allow three calm, intelligent students to do so. So sit. Five minutes, that’s all. Open your eyes only once you feel appropriately calm.”

 

The trio sat reluctantly. Truthfully, Harry knew it was a good idea, but he was impatient and excited, and he didn’t want to meditate for the second time in a day. But Master Jerome was right: being too confident could be disastrous with this sort of magic. So he settled in to the quiet place in his mind, established over many years of focus and calm.

 

The past three days had been very hectic for a few reasons: mainly, Pettigrew had not been captured yet, so Potter Manor was edgy. James and Lily had good reason to be wary of Wormtail. Having that kind of trust broken tended to leave marks. Tom, on the other hand, had somehow built Peter up into a kind of megalomaniacal evil mastermind, and having him free was causing him a great deal of anxiety. The press was having a field day, and had already requested personal interviews from the whole family (Harry was ignored, which he actually didn’t mind).

 

Additionally, they’d all gotten their Hogwarts letters, along with the news that Remus was going to be that year’s Defense teacher, which was brilliant. Not to mention, Harry was a Prefect. Apparently Percy had followed through on his promise to recommend him for the position. Delf wasn’t his opposite, which caused him some surprise, though she said she wouldn’t have been good at it because she just didn’t care enough about other people. They weren’t to do their shopping together that year, since Astoria wanted to go with friends, so the Greengrass family was making it a real outing again. Harry was doing his with Tracey during the Muggle Meet-and-Greet, which left Roderick sort of at odds. He said he’d probably join the Meet-and-Greet. Harry had hidden a smirk when he heard that, as he saw right through to his friend’s ulterior motivations.

 

And of course, they were all dying to turn into crows already, which brought him back to the matter at hand. His whole body felt like it was fizzing with excitement, but he sternly reminded himself what had happened the last time he and Delf and Roderick had been too eager to fly, and brought himself back in hand quite easily.

 

He opened his eyes and saw Delf had done the same before him, and he smiled at her with subdued good cheer. For some reason she blushed and looked away from him. He frowned, wondering if she felt quite well.

 

But then Roderick opened his eyes, and they were ready. Their Master had them stand in a line in front of him, so that he could monitor them all properly. They were doing it with wands first, since that was easier. Wands weren’t necessary for Animagi, of course. They’d read all about it. Wands were conduits to bring magic from within the wizard out to create a spell. Since no magic was going anywhere external for Animagi transformations, wands were a bit superfluous, but it was easier to have a focal point at first.

 

Harry closed his eyes again, listening to his heartbeat and his friends’ latent excitement. There was sunlight on his face and wind tugging his trousers and tee-shirt, but he peered inward, seeking that illusive, mysterious quality that was called magic. When he found it, resting quietly very deep within, he drew it up and out and around himself, giving it intention with his will. All at once, his body began to itch all over, and his legs were _way_ too big, had they always been like that? and he thought he could go for a grasshopper or two, as breakfast had been a bit skimpy— _grasshoppers?_

 

Harry looked down at himself: scruffy black feathers decorated a sloping breast, a gleaming dark beak extended out of his face (that would take some getting used to), and dark claws gripped the earth. He’d done it! He was a crow! He looked up at Delf and Roderick and saw that they had succeeded as well. Delf was examining herself just as Harry had been, running her beak through her lustrous feathers in apparent amazement. Roderick, on the other hand, was having a little trouble. He’d somehow twisted his wing about and it was now sticking straight up in the air. “My wing is stuck!” he exclaimed, and it came out as a croaking caw. “My wing is stuck! I have wings! Merlin!”

 

He looked so funny, hopping about trying to bring his wing down that Harry couldn’t help but laugh. It came out in a crow’s raw cackle, and that made him laugh even more. That set Roderick off, and then Delf joined in, and then they were all staggering around on their claws, cawing and laughing. Harry had spent so long worrying about the magical side of becoming a crow that he hadn’t even thought about what to do once he became one. Walking was hard! His center of balance was so far forward that he kept falling onto his face when he tried to walk, and then he’d flap to try to regain his balance and that would make it worse.

 

Ironically, Delf was having the best time of it. Elegant as a human, she adapted to the new form with envy-inducing ease, and was strutting about looking at the boys with evident amused disparagement. Her eyes had retained their changeable nature, he noted, as they were a shimmering mixture of green and gold. That was her defining feature then. All Animagi were supposed to have them: McGonagall’s cat form had square marks like her spectacles, for example. Roderick was easy too. The feathers along the tops of his wings—the alula and marginal coverts, they were called—were pure white, and they extended up behind his neck, so it looked like he was wearing a scarf when his wings were folded. And it looked like his long primaries and secondaries had some blue tints. Harry, examining himself as best he could, found nothing particularly unique about his crow body. Perhaps he had spectacle marks like McGonagall? He didn’t wear glasses anymore though…

 

All of a sudden, he heard a loud flapping, and, spinning about as well as he could in his ungainly body, he saw that Delf had taken the initiative and had actually gotten airborne! Delf had! Roderick had noticed as well, and the two of them ran clumsily after her, squawking indignantly.

 

“Hey, come back! No fair!”

 

“You didn’t even _want_ to be a bird!”

 

“You were supposed to wait!”

 

They could hear her laughing from the air.

 

“I’ll be next!” Roderick cawed, and started flapping.

 

Harry tackled him. “No, me!”

 

The following kerfuffle must have been hilarious if Master Jerome’s laughter was anything to go by, and when they finally let go of each other and decided to actually follow Delf’s example, her croaking mirth echoed out of the sky as well.

 

A few clumsy flaps and hops forward, and Harry left the ground, Roderick just behind him.

 

Flapping was counter-intuitive. He was used to flying on his Nimbus, which had very little to do with him actually moving and everything to do with balance. Flying as a crow required about as much balance as walking did for a human, but a great deal more movement. But once he got the hang of the movement, he was able to relax a bit and pay attention to the experience. Harry already knew flying was the best thing in the world. He’d learned that on his eleventh birthday, despite the disastrous consequences. The air, the space, the freedom… But being a crow was something else again. They were born for flight, lived for it. And so now flying was not only fun and freeing, but a deep instinctual imperative that he was fulfilling.

 

He let himself glide for a time, wheeling about on warm thermals. His crow body knew the air much better than the earth, and the winds flowing around his body were like an invisible map of the world around him. The ground didn’t matter as long as it stayed a safe distance away. All that mattered was the sky, the beautiful sky—

 

Delf divebombed him.

 

“ _Got you!”_ she shrieked, sailing off over the house.

 

“OI!”After the confusion of figuring out which way was up, he zoomed after her. She was smaller and nimbler than him, so she stayed pretty well ahead, taunting and flipping her feathers at him. Harry could hear Roderick screeching with laughter as he and Delf tore through the air, and before long he managed to wallop into her and sent them both plummeting to the grass. He tumbled beak under tail feathers once, twice, thrice, and quickly decided that it was time to be human once more.

 

Soon all three of them were two-legged mammals again, seated in a rough line in front of Master Jerome, their clothes noticeably more rumbled than they had been before their trip to the skies. They were all smiling too hugely to do anything else.

 

“Well done,” their Master congratulated warmly. “Well done indeed.”

 

They were useless for the rest of the day.

 

Fortunately, the next day was the Muggle Meet-and-Greet, so Harry met Tracey, Hermione and Roderick at the Leaky Cauldron for a late breakfast and then met Professors McGonagall and Flitwick with the new Muggle-born students at ten. There weren’t many that year, so the tour of the Alley didn’t take much time. Harry and the other three got the things they needed for school. He wondered why Hermione seemed to need materials for every single supplemental class it was possible to take, since there was literally not a way to attend all of them because of scheduling conflicts, but figured that was her problem. He thanked Professor Flitwick for his Prefect appointment as they left, and in that way discovered that Tracey was a Prefect as well. She was not surprised to hear Delf wasn’t one. The three of them spent the rest of the day wandering the Alley. Harry tried to stay mostly out of the conversation, as getting in the middle of such silly, inept, determined flirting would only end badly for all concerned parties. They bid each other farewell when the sun was sinking towards the rooftops, reminding each other they’d all be at Delf’s birthday on the 20th.

 

But it was only the 6th the next day, and Master Jerome had something very different than a birthday party planned for them: career discussions.

 

“In your ideal future, what would your job be?” he asked them, starting absently up at the ceiling.

 

“A curse-breaker,” Harry said immediately. Memories of Egypt were still fresh in his mind, along with all of Bill’s fantastic stories. “Definitely.”

 

“Not and Auror?” Delf asked. “Seems you’d be good at it.”

 

“And work under my dad? No thanks.”

 

“An adventure-seeker,” Master Jerome murmured. “Appropriate. Roderick?”

 

“I want to work under Mr. Weasley in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office,” Roderick replied, grinning somewhat darkly. “To piss off my dad.”

 

“An admirable goal in any case, but not a good basis for deciding a career,” their Master admonished gently. “Daphne?”

 

“I’d be an Unmentionable,” Delf said gravely. “Because you never know what they’re doing until you’re one of them.”

 

“I literally heard the twins calling you a Ravenclaw in my head just now,” Roderick told her, and she scowled.

 

Master Jerome chuckled. “I could think of nothing more appropriate. Now, assuming for whatever reason, those positions aren’t made available to you. Second choices?”

 

“International Magical Co-Operation, I guess. It used to be my first choice.”

 

“Before more exciting things took over, I suppose.” Master Jerome sounded amused. “Roderick?”

 

“Um… Not to copy, but Muggle-Magical Relations sounds interesting.”

 

“I didn’t know we _had_ relations with Muggles,” said Delf.

 

“That’s why it’s interesting.”

 

“Following a vein there, I see. Daphne?”

 

“One of those people who identifies things for Gringotts. Like, if a vault’s owner dies with no heir, and they find a pile of Dark things, I’d go in and see what they did.”

 

“Trend breaker,” Roderick accused.

 

“What? Oh, you two? Look, I don’t care if people get along or not, okay? That’s why I would have been a bad Prefect.”

 

“Master Jerome, is there a particular reason we’re talking about this? I thought we were supposed to do more silent spell casting today.”

 

“Merely my own personal curiosity,” he replied blithely. Roderick laughed.

 

The following two weeks passed remarkably quickly. They worked more on Occlumency and magical theory, as well as preparing for their O.W.L.s, which Master Jerome assured them would simply be a nuisance given their level of academic skill.

 

But then it was Delf’s birthday. It dawned humid and drizzly, and stayed overcast throughout the day. Harry Flooed over early, as was his habit, to find that Roderick had beaten him yet again. ‘He must really want to get out of Malfoy Manor,’ he reflected unhappily. Even at the height of his and his parents’ arguments, he had only ever felt uncomfortable at home, never unwelcome. Roderick clearly did.

 

“Happy birthday,” he said warmly, handing Delf her presents. There was the usual three-part silver frame, which Harry had had custody of, a book called _Notable Animagi Through History_ , and a little charm for her bracelet in the shape of a flying bird. He greeted her parents and brother and sister, and then the trio went up to the library to wait for the other party guests, who weren’t due for nearly an hour.

 

“Delf, why are you wearing your hair up?” Harry asked once he’d finally figured out what was different about her. Her hair was done up in some kind of twisty braidy thing at the back of her head. It looked nice, he supposed. Complicated, at any rate. But it didn’t really suit her.

 

She touched her hair self-consciously, eyes an anxious hazel. “Oliver said he thought I would look better with it up. I just thought I’d try it, just to see if it works. …Does it?”

 

Harry frowned thoughtfully. “I dunno. I guess I think it looks better down… Yeah, I’m sure it does. Oliver’s wrong.”

 

“Okay.” She reached up (Harry noticed she was wearing the charm bracelet he’d given her, the one he was still adding to) and tugged some pins, and the twisty braidy thing tumbled down across her shoulders. Roderick laughed a little. Delf blushed pink and hit him on the arm, and he said ‘ow’ but kept on anyway. Harry was confused, but knew better than to ask for an explanation. They never explained anything when they got like that.

 

“…just in here, I think.” came Mrs. Greengrass’ voice from the hallway, causing the three friends to quiet down and look at each other in confusion. The party wasn’t starting for nearly forty-five minutes. Who would have gotten here so early? Roderick sat up straight and Harry knew he was hoping for it to be Tracey.

 

It wasn’t Tracey, actually. It also wasn’t Cedric or the twins or anyone else Harry was expecting. It was Oliver. He supposed he oughtn’t have been as surprised as he was. Oliver and Delf were dating. It was quite natural for him to be at her birthday party. And she had even put her hair up for him. But for some reason the pieces had simply not gone together in his head. So all he did for several seconds as the Gryffindor came in, escorted by Delf’s mum, was stare rudely.

 

For his part, Oliver looked rather put out.

 

“Perfect, there’s a chair for you. Will you all be happy together until the party begins?” Mrs. Greengrass asked pleasantly.

 

“Sure,” Roderick said cheerfully when the other two hadn’t spoken after a few moments. “Come in,” he told Oliver, shifting around the table so he could have the chair next to Delf. Harry snapped himself out of it as Oliver took the seat across from him.

 

Delf seemed to have done the same, as she now asked, “What are you doing here so early?” Harry glanced at her eyes and saw with some confusion that they were brown, just neutral brown. That couldn’t be right. Oliver had to make her feel _something,_ right?

 

“I was going to be early and surprise you,” Oliver said, eyeing off Harry and Roderick. “I see they’ve beaten me to it.”

 

“Well, you’re actually both: early and surprising,” Harry pointed out reasonably.

 

Oliver _glared_ at him, and he suddenly understood: Delf had been meant to be _alone_ when he arrived. Harry added a note to his mental “Oliver” folder: Gryffindor, rabid Quidditch Captain, untrustworthy.

 

“And happy birthday,” he muttered to Delf, thrusting a roughly wrapped package to her.

 

The following half hour topped the list of awkward events in Harry’s life. Oliver was visibly stand-offish towards him and Roderick. Delf seemed edgy, while Roderick was especially jovial to fill the gaps in conversation, which were frequent and long.

 

But at a quarter to the hour, Astoria shouted up the stairs that the twins and Lee Jordan had arrived, so they all trooped down to the large sitting-dining room, with the French windows that opened out onto the back lawn. They were closed at the moment due to the weather, but Harry had always liked them. Cedric and Tracey arrived soon after, one after the other, and there was a hullabaloo of greetings and birthday wishes and general noisiness.

 

After that things went a bit off track because Dwight had got at the cake, and eaten a third of it before anyone caught him. Delf retaliated by levitating him over the guests, so he could watch but not participate, but then he started drooling on everyone, so Mrs. Greengrass took him upstairs. The twins claimed they’d found their protégé.

 

So they postponed the cake while Mrs Greengrass saw if it was salvageable, and just had Delf open gifts instead. They sat around the table that usually lived in the kitchen, which had obligingly walked itself out to the large sitting room for them. Delf was at the head, of course, with Harry and Oliver on either side. Astoria was on Harry’s other side, then Cedric, then Tracey, Roderick, and Lee Jordan, and the twins completing the circle next to Oliver.

 

The twins and Lee Jordan opened the ceremonies by presenting Delf with a grubby sheet of parchment covered in scribbles. Delf took it gingerly, and looked at them uncertainly.

 

“Well, what does it look like?” Fred said, pretending offense.

 

“It looks like a list of dates and places.”

 

“ _To avoid,”_ George stressed.

 

“Why?” she asked, looking back at the page.

 

“Look,” said Lee. “All we’re saying is that unless you REALLY like cockroaches, you should stay away from the west wing of the second floor during the first weekend in March. For example.”

 

Delf gravely folded the parchment up and tucked it into her sleeve. “Thank you. Duly noted,” she said amidst a round of applause. Anything that got the Weasley twins to plan that far ahead was extremely admirable.

 

Roderick and Harry had jointly given her the silver frame, of course, and Roderick also gave her a second-hand copy of _Four Founders: The Early Years of Hogwarts_ , which looked quite interesting. He’d have to borrow it. Her parents had taken over giving her the raw scrapbooking materials, as they were a bit pricey, and she used a lot of them.

 

Then she reached for Oliver’s one, and picked off the loose paper to reveal a book called _Rare and Difficult Quidditch Maneuvers and their Origins_. The whole table erupted into laughter, except for Delf and the gifter in question.

 

“Whose birthday is it, Olly, yours or hers?” George hooted.

 

“Ooh, look at Harry, he wants it!” Tracey giggled.

 

“Can I actually look at that?” he asked hopefully.

 

“Sure.” She handed it to him without a shred of reluctance. The day Delf needed to know how to do unusual Quidditch maneuvers would be the day Harry stopped flying.

 

Oliver looked sullen as Delf reached for the last gift on the table, Tracey’s. It was a fairly small bag made of stiff green paper with white and pink and orange tissue paper puffing out of the top. In fact, there was a lot of tissue paper, which they discovered with growing amusement as Delf had to keep and keep and keep pulling it out. There was a veritable cloud of it around her by the time she was done, and Harry wondered what kind of present the bag still had space for. He leaned in to look over her shoulder as she peered within (Oliver was doing the same on the other side, he saw in his peripheral vision). He saw a flash of colourful material and black lace at the bottom of the bag before Delf screeched and crushed it closed on the tabletop. The brief glimpse had set off a chain reaction of memories in his head: eleven years old and confused—lithe mannequins strutting—ruffles and lace—sunlight, adventure, fun—“If you want Roderick to make a move, that would be a good place to start.”—indignant spluttering… promises of revenge…

 

Tracey had given her lingerie.

 

“You let me open that in front of everyone without warning me?!” Delf shrieked across the table at Tracey, who was screaming with laughter and hanging on Roderick, who just looked puzzled, along with everyone else at the table except Harry and Oliver.

 

“What was it?” Cedric asked confusedly.

 

“ _Nothing!_ ” Delf shouted, sweeping the offending gift off the table in a swirl of tissue paper. “I’m taking this… this _thing_ upstairs!”

 

A stunned silence followed her out, interrupted only by Tracey’s intermittent gasping laughs.

 

“What did you do to her?” Roderick wanted to know.

 

Tracey only shook her head. “Secret,” she giggled.

 

The group dispersed then: Fred, George, Lee Jordan and Roderick adjourned to a corner, speaking in furtive voices and gesticulating; Oliver muttered something about finding a toilet; Tracey, Cedric and Harry opened _Rare and Difficult Quidditch Maneuvers and their Origins_ and examined some of the diagrams, while Astoria looked on with ill-concealed disinterest. After a while, the twins and Lee sidled off to the kitchen to see if any cake was to be had, and Roderick took over Tracey’s attention while Astoria started talking to Cedric, her face a slightly above-average shade of pink.

 

Smiling slightly, Harry quietly excused himself and wandered away. The twins and Lee had vacated the kitchen at some point (presumably with the mortal remains of the cake). He followed a muffled thump he heard that came from the cloak room next to the secondary sitting room, assuming it to be of a twin-ish origin.

 

He opened the door.

 

It wasn’t the twins.

 

It was Delf.

 

And Oliver.

 

And they were kissing.

 

A lot.

 

Delf was leaning on the left wall, Oliver pressed against her, and his hands were wandering somewhat south of her waist in an _absolutely_ inappropriate area.

 

Harry felt his common sense switch off.

 

“Hey!”

 

They broke apart, which was good, because Harry had been about to do it for them. Instead, he grabbed Oliver by the collar and slammed him up against the facing wall. “She is a lady!” he shouted into Oliver’s stunned face.“You can’t go groping her like a side of meat! Show some respect for Merlin’s sake!”

 

“Harry! Damn you, get off!” He felt hands pulling on his shoulders and he reluctantly let go of the Gryffindor’s throat. It was Roderick who had hauled him away, and Roderick who restrained him still as their friends pressed into the small space to see what was happening.

 

“Give it to him, Harry!”

 

“Don’t encourage them, Tracey,” Cedric admonished.

 

“Fight, fight, fight, fight!” the twins and Lee Jordan chanted.

 

“Clear out, clear out,” said an authoritative adult voice, and the teenagers did indeed clear out as Mr. Greengrass entered the scene. Roderick let Harry go, and he stood, uncomfortable but unapologetic under the eyes of his best friend’s father. Mr. Greengrass surveyed the scene sternly. “I don’t care what happened or who started it. Go outside if you’re going to hit each other,” he finally said.

 

“Yes, Mr. Greengrass,” Harry muttered as Oliver ground out “Yes, sir.”

 

The man nodded and left, and in the following silence, Harry stared furiously at the floor lest he accidentally look at Oliver again and hit him for real.

 

Luckily, Oliver solved that problem for him. “I’m leaving,” the elder boy declared, and brushed past the quiet partygoers. Harry heard him say something to the Floo Network, and a whoosh that meant he was gone.

 

“Well, the show’s over,” Roderick announced after a moment, and began shepherding everyone besides Delf and Harry back into the hallway. In short order, they were left alone.

 

“You needn’t have done that, Harry,” Delf told him baldly. “I can take care of myself, you know.” He looked up.

 

There were times when Delf’s eyes might have been either furious orange or joyful gold, but this was not one of those times. She was clearly, unmistakably happy. Harry was confused.

 

“Shouldn’t you be mad, like Oliver?”

 

“I am.”

 

“But… your eyes…”

 

“What about them?”

 

“…Never mind.”

 

That night, he had a dream. _He, Delf, Roderick, Will, Lawrence, Helen, and some others from their year were in the Library, working on a Potions essay. Delf said she had forgotten her brother in the greenhouse, and Harry volunteered to go with her and get him. They went out into the passage way, only it was Harry’s room instead, and Delf was pulling her top off. In a cerebral way, he knew he should be surprised when she pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top of him, but all he could think about was how perfect her breasts were and then she was kissing him and oh, Merlin…!_

 

Another week and a half sped by, in which Harry tried very hard to bury that particular dream. Unfortunately his well-organized mind had no prepared category of ‘inappropriate dreams about friends’, and it stuck out like a sore thumb in his psyche. They went back to tutoring after the interruption of Delf’s birthday, and he threw himself into it with gusto. They finessed their rough Occlumency skills and perfected basic silent spell-casting. More complex things still required a verbal command, but Master Jerome was quite pleased with their progress and promised that if they kept working they’d attain control of the power in no time.

 

But as much as Harry wanted the summer to roll on forever, it did eventually end, and the 31st dawned balmy and warm despite his low spirits. They had planned a small goodbye party for Master Jerome, and gotten presents and things. They didn’t know his favorite food (after traveling to all those places, there was no way he could have just one, as Roderick pointed out), so they all provided something they particularly liked instead. Harry and Roderick went to Delf’s especially early to prepare, and an activity which ought to have been cheerful and boisterous—three friends cooking together on a summer morning—was restrained and gloomy.

 

“Damn!”

 

Harry nearly dropped a bowl of cream at Roderick’s sudden shout. “What?”

 

“We should have been terrible! If we had been really bad students instead of good ones, he’d have had to stay to teach us more.”

 

After a long second of incomprehension, Harry laughed. “It would be nice if that was how it worked, wouldn’t it?”

 

They each went back to their own activities. For some reason conversation was difficult to start that morning.

 

“What do you think he’ll do?” Delf asked, not looking up from whatever she was stirring at the counter. “Now that we’ve, well, graduated?”

 

“Get new students, I suppose,” Harry replied glumly.

 

“Stupid blighters,” Roderick muttered.

 

“You can’t call eight-year-olds stupid blighters, Roderick,” Delf chided, though Harry could tell she agreed with his sentiment. Even he couldn’t help being a mite jealous of these hypothetical children. The seven Augusts he had spent under Master Jerome’s tutelage had given him an escape from Potter Manor, endless reasons to be excited, and a thirst for knowledge far beyond anything Hogwarts had ever inspired in him. He would have liked nothing more than to spend a couple more summers in the Greengrass’ library, learning and laughing and loving every minute.

 

They eventually went upstairs to wait, and sat around the table in a very glum silence. Harry folded his arms and slouched more and more deeply into his chair as the minutes ticked on; Roderick crossed his arms on the table and leaned his chin down on them, despondent; Delf stared at her hands, folded on her lap. It was unusual for her eyes to match Roderick’s, as she wasn’t usually disposed to be sad. But now they were a wretched, wet grey, and there was nothing cheerful to be said to make them flicker gold.

 

“Good morning, students,” said a gentle voice. They turned in their seats, but without the usual verve. Harry wouldn’t admit it, but there was a hot itchy feeling behind his eyes that would probably turn into tears if he let it.

 

“Good morning, Master Jerome,” they mumbled in rough unison.

 

“Why the sad faces?” he inquired, taking his usual spot across from Harry. It was the end of the summer, so he had stopped dressing quite so foreign and wore a simple brown tweed suit and a tie with red koi fish on it.

 

“It’s our last day of tutoring.” Roderick sounded incredulous. “We’ll never see you again.” Harry nodded, fighting the itchy eye feeling. Delf bit her lip.

 

“Why in the world would the end of our tutoring mean we’d never see each other again?” Master Jerome inquired curiously.

 

Harry looked between Delf and Roderick, and they looked between each other, and then they all looked at Master Jerome.

 

“Well… because… doesn’t it?” Harry asked in confusion.

 

“Of course not! You’re no longer my students after today, certainly. But that only means you’re real people now. I expect I’ll take you out for drinks in a few years once you’ve all turned seventeen.”

 

Harry sat up straighter and started to smile. He hadn’t thought of what sort of relationship they could have with Master Jerome outside of that of tutor-pupils. He hadn’t even thought that was a possibility. Which was pretty stupid, he realized now. Master Jerome wasn’t going to disappear just because he’d stopped teaching them.

 

Delf and Roderick had also perked up noticeably. “So do you keep contact with other students you’ve taught?” Roderick asked.

 

“Of course. I frequently have quite a pile of letters waiting for me when I return every summer. It’s quite worth the time investment to hear how my former pupils turned out.”

 

“So, now that we’re not students, will you tell us where you’re going this year?” Delf said hopefully.

 

Master Jerome smiled. “Certainly. I believe I’m to stay here in Britain, as a matter of fact.”

 

“Are you living as a Muggle again?” Harry asked.

 

“No, as a wizard.”

 

“Are you giving up on the Crumple-Horned Snorkack?” Delf sounded distressed. None of them really believed in the creature’s existence, but it was a defining feature of their Master, and losing that would be sad.

 

“Not at all. In fact, I’ve been in contact with Mr Xenophilius Lovegood about doing a large project on that very subject. However, my main motivation for staying in the area is that my mother fell ill recently.”

 

“Mother?” Harry repeated dumbly.

 

“You have a mother?” from Delf.

 

Master Jerome laughed his chuckly laugh. “Everyone has a mother, or had one once. Mine is named Estelle, and she is eighty-eight. As my father passed away some years ago, it falls to me to care for her now that she is sick.”

 

“How can you be staying here to look after her? I thought you were from France,” Roderick pointed out, faintly accusatory.

 

“I am. I was born just outside of Lyon. Both of my parents began serving as ambassadors to Ministère français de la Magie when I was eight, and we moved to China for three years. Then when I was eleven, they were transferred to the United States of America where I attended Merlin Gates School for Young Wizards for two years.”

 

“Then where?” Harry asked eagerly. Master Jerome had trailed off into a thoughtful silence, but his three almost not-pupils wanted to hear more. So far, Master Jerome had been just that: their Master. But as he said, sloughing that title off meant he was a real person now, and they were eager to hear about the sort of past he had, given that he knew almost everything about theirs.

 

“Hm?Durmstrang, in Scandinavia, for two years. Not a pleasant place. I don’t recommend it, even if that is where I first learned of the Snorkack.”

 

“Dad wanted to send me and Draco there,” Roderick said unexpectedly. “Because the headmaster there has ‘proper views on…’ I’m saying ‘Muggle-borns’, but that’s not what he said. But Mum didn’t want us going that far away.”

 

“Indeed,” their Master agreed solemnly. “I don’t think that would have gone well for you.”

 

“Mm,” Roderick grunted. He looked like he regretted bringing it up. “Well, it didn’t happen.”

 

“Wait, didn’t you once say you were in Ravenclaw at Hogwarts?” Delf interrupted.“You’d be too old if you went to those other places before.”

 

“That was a bit of an administrative headache,” Jerome agreed, smiling. They Sorted me during summer, before the year began. The Hat took nearly twenty minutes. He only wanted to talk, really. Even Albus Dumbledore gets boring after long enough.”

 

“Dumbledore _is_ boring, never mind how long you spend with him,” Delf scoffed. “And he thinks he’s just _so_ clever. Eugh.”

 

“I’m glad you agree,” their tutor replied, smiling happily. “Though he is actually quite clever, he’s also a closed-minded traditionalist.”

 

The three students smirked around at each other. While Harry’s opinion, at least, had been cemented very early on, it was nice to have it vindicated by Master Jerome. “And what about after Hogwarts?” he asked. “Did you start teaching right away?”

 

“No, I returned to Sweden for several years to research the Snorkack, and also became interested in magical theory, which I had a very vague background in from living in China. Then when I returned to the UK to think about working, I realized that I’d been collecting pedagogies almost all of my life, and that I could combine some of them in very effective ways. So… thirty-some-odd years later, here we are.”

 

The day passed too quickly after that. They ate the food they’re prepared that morning, and some of it was even good. They didn’t talk about important things: that would have been too depressing. Their Master (Harry wondered if they would ever be able to call him anything else) told them stories from his travels, and they shared some of the sillier things they got up to at Hogwarts. The mood was genuinely cheerful, but there was a certain undercurrent of sorrow that none of them touched. Even though they knew they would see their tutor again, they still didn’t want their lessons to end.

 

Harry returned home even later than usual that evening. Their goodbyes to Master Jerome had been painfully formal, and Harry had been fighting that hot, itchy pressure again when he stepped into the Floo.

 

Potter Manor was quiet: Tipsy was washing up in the kitchen, the scratching of a pen could be heard from James’ study, the wind flapped the curtain over a half-open window. He went straight up to his room. He didn’t want to have to deal with his family just then, even if they were being kind now. Kindness was not the same as trust, and he would not trust any of them with what he felt about the end of his lessons.

 

He went upstairs and lay on his bed, fingers knit over his stomach. He tried to think that tomorrow he’d be back at Hogwarts, starting fifth year as a Prefect, but the thought didn’t excite him as it usually would have.

 

There was a knock at his door, and he propped himself up on his elbows. “Come in,” he called, expecting Tipsy, hopefully with biscuits.

 

But it was Lily who came in, nervous and hesitant.

 

“Oh, Mum… hi,” he said awkwardly, sitting up all the way.

 

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

 

“No, I was just… just thinking. What do you, um… Did you need something?”

 

“Well, I wanted to talk to you, sweetheart. Your father and I have discussed, and we know we’ve… not been very good to you all the time, and no words can tell you how sorry we are, and we want to move towards resolution together.”

 

His instincts, hard-won over years of hardening his heart, warred with the sincerity he heard in her voice, and the deep and painful desire to trust her.

 

In the end, “Okay,” was all he could manage.

 

Lily seemed to take his terse agreement as an attempt to put her off, and she went on urgently, “Our family needs to heal from the centre, Harry. Please, just listen: your father and I want you to write at least every month. And we’ll write back.”

 

Harry couldn’t deny his heart its little bitter twist at that, but he didn’t say anything about his unanswered letters of first year. Instead, he muttered, “Sure, I’ll try, but I’ve got O.W.L.s this year, so I’ll be studying like mad—”

 

“A short note just once a month. Please, sweetheart. We can’t leave things as they are.”

 

He sighed quietly. “Yeah, I know.”

 

“And… we’d like it if you came home for Christmas, Harry.”

 

**Mini chapter: Master Jerome**

 

_I will miss them._

 

He let the words stand alone on the page for a time.

 

_Choosing favorites is wrong for a teacher, but they are mine._

 

Mist hung in thin shrouds over the fields outside the window. A mug of tea steeped at his elbow, steam wafting across the pages of his open journal.

 

_I always miss my children, but I don’t know if the feeling was ever reciprocated so strongly._

 

He pulled the tea bag out and set it aside on a saucer.

 

_I wonder if they know how smart they are. No, ‘smart’ is not the correct term in this case. They know how intelligent they are. They know very well. But they all have gaps, gaps both saddening and endearing. Though of course, it is rare to find a person who sees themselves utterly honestly._

 

He took a sip of tea, then bent back over the page.

 

_Roderick I met last. His father escorted him to the first lesson, to meet me. Mr. Malfoy kept his hand tight on the back of his son’s neck until he left. I remember thinking that the boy’s eyes were flat and dead. How relieved I was when I brought him upstairs and he sprang to life in the presence of his friends. He was only nine at the time. Far too young to guard his true self so carefully. He badly needs to get out of his father’s house. He is the sort for whom concealment is the same as smothering, and he will suffocate if he stays where he is._

 

He paused to sip and think about words.

 

_If I had to put a finger on it, I would say that he is the humor and common sense of the trio. He has a merry, wicked way about him that is rare to come by, but the sensitivity to know when it is appropriate. However, he swallows grief because his family has taught him that such feelings are not to be shown. I hope he can find a kind of life which is true to him rather than simply reacting in opposition to his father, commendable though that motive is._

 

He recut his quill tip and stirred his tea with it before going back to writing.

 

_Dear Daphne, so prickly. ‘Delf’ the boys call her. A charming nickname which she has learned to like, I believe. I am forever appreciative of her parents for soliciting my services. Hearing them speak about some of their classmates, my past several summers might have been a great deal less enjoyable. However, I have had other batches of unpalatable students (well, only the one, really), and I survived that and learned the true value of patience._

 

He smiled down at the page, thinking gladly of days never to be lived again.

 

_That is something Daphne certainly lacks. She has no patience for the inadequacies of others, or of herself. This will be her major hurdle, I think. She knows what she wants, certainly, but she’s afraid of what it might take to attain, and that makes her angry and impatient all over again. And she doesn’t know how to deal with embarrassment yet._

 

His tea had gone lukewarm, but he didn’t mind. Other wizards, who liked things Just So, might have used a mild Heating Charm to set it steaming again, but Jerome Leroy was not one of them.

 

_And young Harry: their leader and the heart of their unit, if only he knew it. Unfortunately, he has the self-awareness of a gnat right now, poor thing. The moment when he wakes up to Daphne’s feelings will be one I want to see. I very much look forward to the day when he steps into his full potential. He shall achieve wonders.  It is often the case that those who feel themselves least qualified to lead do the best job. Pride is an ugly, meddlesome thing which Harry is thankfully lacking._

 

He sat up and stretched his fingers. A biscuit sounded pleasant, now that he thought of it.

 

A moment later he sat back down, biscuit in hand.

 

_He’s doubly lucky, come to think of it, given how it seems to run in the family. Perhaps the circumstances his family found itself in with the brother did most of the work to prevent that, but the facts remain. I strongly disapprove of neglect or abuse of children in any form. I have made that clear here in the past. It’s deplorable that both of the boys have fallen victim to one sort or another. I’m going to think more about the line between appreciating them for who they are and regretting the circumstances which brought those admirable traits out._

_They have been excellent students, and I shall dearly miss spending summers with them. I look forward to new students in a few years perhaps, but they will have a nigh-impossible act to follow._

_The thirty-first of August, 1993_

_JL_

 


	16. The Right Kind of Kiss

_The Right Kind of Kiss_

 

_Harry was naked except for a large, heavy cloak made of warm feathers. Delf was there too, and she also had a wing-like cape. They were standing at the head of the Black Lake at Hogwarts, underneath the tree they studied under when the weather was nice. She turned to face him and her eyes were bright spring green: she was excited. She shrugged her cloak off to show that she was nude as well. She moved towards him and kissed him firmly on the mouth. “Harry, are you there?” she said. “Harry?”_

 

“Harry! Wake up!”

 

He rolled his head up groggily. He was fully dressed, and sitting on the floor at the foot of his bed. Sunlight streamed in through the windows. His mum was banging on the door. “Harry! We’re leaving in less than an hour, are you ready?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” he called, rubbing his eyes. It was true. He’d woken up extra early to finish packing as well as fit a lot of running and meditation in, so he could literally leave whenever Tom was ready (though only Merlin knew when that would be). He must have accidentally dozed off again. But what he was really concerned about were these damned dreams that kept happening. They’d grown more and more common since that first one, despite his every wish to the contrary. Delf was his _friend_ , nothing more. Having such dreams about her was a grave violation of that relationship.

 

To get his mind off it, he got up and started dragging his trunk and Hedwig down to the foyer, only to be met by Tom charging up the stairs.

 

“Harry! Have you seen my potions kit? Or any of my books? Or my Firebolt?” he asked, panting hard and leaning on his knees.

 

“You lost your _Firebolt_?” Harry demanded incredulously.

 

“Well, it wasn’t _my_ fault! Have you seen it?”

 

“No, I haven’t. How could it be anyone else’ fault?”

 

“Oh, forget it! Could you go ask Tipsy if my robes are clean yet?” And he dashed off to his room.

 

Shaking his head, he carried on downstairs and left his owl and trunk by the front door on his way to the kitchen. He went through the dining room just in time to see James’ form go spinning away in green Floo flames.

 

“Hello again, Tipsy,” he said to the elf, who was busy over the wash-tub in the corner opposite the door. “Do you know where Dad’s gone?”

 

“Good morning again, Master Harry,” she chirped, straightening her tiara. “No, Tipsy doesn’t know where Master Potter has gone, Tipsy is sorry. Is Master Harry ready to go to Hogwarts?”

 

“Yeah, I suppose. Actually, Tom wants to know if his robes are clean yet.”

 

“Not all of them, Master Harry. Master Thomas is not giving Tipsy his laundry until there is a huge giant pile of it, so it is taking Tipsy very long to finish.”

 

“Sorry about that,” Harry replied sympathetically. “Can I do anything?”

 

She pointed at the smaller pile of clean robes to the side of the tub. “If Master Harry could take those up to Master Thomas, Tipsy would have an easier time later.”

 

“Consider it done,” he said, and scooped them up in his arms.

 

“Thank you, Master Harry!” she trilled happily as he went out.

 

At the top of the stairs, he met Lily, who had apparently just come out of the master bedroom. “Oh, Harry, you’re up, perfect,” she said as soon as she saw him. “Listen, your father’s been called in to work, so I’ll need to take turns doing side-along Apparation with you boys, alright? Are you all packed? Or are those Tom’s? Oh, he said he couldn’t find his potions kit: do you think he could split yours?”

 

“Well, I sort of need mine—”

 

“I’m trying to sort one with things from the kitchen, but everything’s either stale or mouldy—God knows I don’t have time to maintain it, let alone do anything—anyway, would you go help him please? We’re all running about like chickens with our heads cut off! We need to be at the platform in half an hour, remember!” And she rushed down the stairs. Harry allowed a moment for all her frenetic energy to dissipate before trotting down to Tom’s room. He barely ever went to Tom’s end of the hall. The library, his bedroom, and the toilet were all on the left from the stairs, while Tom’s room was at the far right end. In fact, it had been several years since he’d even stepped foot in his brother’s room.

 

“Tom, open up. I’ve got some of your things,” he told the door (Tom still had his latest Chocolate Frog Card taped om it, Harry noticed disdainfully).

 

“My Firebolt!?” Tom demanded, jerking the door open. “Oh. Well, thanks for those anyway. You can put them on my bed or something.”

 

Rolling his eyes, he followed his younger brother into the room. He was immediately skeptical that anything put on Tom’s bed would ever be recovered. Every surface in the room—his desk, the bed, the floor—was covered in mess and detritus, including clothes, random school books and bits of parchment, dirty plates, and many other things he didn’t want to examine too closely.

 

“Where’s your trunk? Have you even started _packing_? We’re leaving in half an hour!”

 

“Of course I’ve started packing!” Tom protested hotly. “It’s just that none of it’s quite, um, in my trunk yet. And I can’t find some of it. But it’s fine! I’m doing it, okay Harry?”

 

“Do you know where your trunk is?” he asked flatly.

 

Tom pointed sulkily to the corner behind the door, where his Hogwarts trunk had apparently been serving as a dirty clothes hamper all summer. Sighing, Harry kicked a few shirts out of the way and peered within.

 

“These are all books from second year! Did you ever unpack? Okay, look, start there, then we’ll think about putting things back in there. I’m going to hang these up for now.” He waded to the big standing wardrobe and pulled the door open. “Oh, by Merlin’s barking beard, Tom…”

 

“What?”

 

He pushed the door completely open. Inside were a few bent wire hangers, a basic third-year potions kit, a short stack of books including a furry one tied up in a belt, and a Firebolt all in a nest of robes that looked long-outgrown. “I like it,” Harry said sarcastically. “You were packing alright, but not in the right place. Were you going to bring the closet to school instead of the trunk? Shove all this in there, grab some knickers and call it a job, we’ve got to go soon. I’m going to the library.”

 

“I—well—that is—” Tom stuttered. “…Thanks.”

 

“Sure, sure. Just hurry up.”

 

They left twenty minutes later with no further fuss. Harry said his goodbyes to the portraits and Tipsy while Lily took Tom to the Platform by side-along Apparation. Then she came back for him, and he left Potter Manor for another year at Hogwarts.

 

Platform 9 ¾ was bustling and noisy, as ever. They had arrived only shortly before eleven, so there was a veritable sea of excited students and their parents in front of the corner they’d Apparated into. Harry gave himself a moment for his stomach to settle, then began scanning the crowd for his friends.

 

“Oh, where did Tom go?” Lily had been looking around too. “I asked him to wait right here so that I could see both of you get on the train safely. Do you see him anywhere, Harry?  Does anyone look suspicious?”

 

“Mum, don’t worry: he probably just went to find Ron and Hermione. I’m sure he’s fine. Wait, isn’t that—?”

 

“ _Who?”_

 

“Oi! Sirius!” Harry waved.

 

His godfather turned at his shout, and waved back when he saw him. He sauntered over and said, “Hello Lily. Morning Harry. Just get here?”

 

“Yes, we Apparated in a moment ago,” Lily replied distractedly. “Have you seen Tom?”

 

“Sure, he’s over with James.”

 

“James is here? He said he was going to work.”

 

“Wait, back up: what are _you_ doing here?”

 

“To answer both of you at once, this is work today. James and I are here, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a few others. We’re doing security.”

 

“Security? For what?”Harry asked.

 

“The train. Latest idea is that Pettigrew’s going to try something while Tom’s in transit between safe places.”

 

Lily had hurried off in the middle of this explanation, presumably to find her husband and younger son. Harry watched her go, trying to still the conflict in his heart. His aversion to trusting his parents was just as ingrained in him as their obsession with Tom was in them, and it would take time and effort to fully purge either. The road to reconciliation would be steep, difficult, and often awkward, but he was glad they had started it at least. 

 

Sirius had noted the direction of his gaze, and laid a hand on his shoulder. Harry started back to reality and looked up at him. “I had nearly forgotten about Pettigrew,” he confessed somewhat sheepishly. 

 

“I wish I could have,” Sirius muttered. “Should have stayed locked up in Azkaban where he belongs…” 

 

“Everyone knows that. We’ll get him sooner or later and put him right back.” 

 

“I know, I’m not worried about catching him. He’s not intelligent.”

 

“He kept up with you and Dad and Uncle Remus though, didn’t he? Can’t have been too dim.” 

 

“Well… no, he was bright enough,” Sirius admitted grudgingly. “Last to achieve his Animagi form though. I meant more that he’s morally ignorant.” 

 

“....Because he betrayed my family and got Dad’s mum killed?” Harry prompted when his godfather had been quiet and thoughtful for too long. He disliked it when Sirius got all introspective and dark, but he also knew that the best way to get him out of it was to hurry him through it. 

 

“I just—we were _friends_!” Sirius burst out. “What sort of person betrays his friends, hm? Tell me.” 

 

“A right bloody bastard,” Harry recited obediently. He had heard all this before. Sometimes when Remus and Sirius came over for dinner, they and Harry’s parents would get into the liquor cabinet afterwards, and Pettigrew was the favored topic for drunken tirades. 

 

“Exactly right.” Sirius agreed. 

 

“Yeah, sure, um. You haven’t seen Roderick or, uh, _Delf_ , have you?” He tried to say her name without special emphasis, but he didn’t think he succeeded.  The dreams had him quite messed up, and he hadn’t come up with a way to deal with it yet.

 

Sirius looked at him sideways but didn’t comment. “I thought I saw Roderick get on the train a few minutes ago, down that way.”  

 

“Thanks. If Mum comes back, tell her I’m not kidnapped or anything, okay? See you later, probably.” 

 

“Certainly,” Sirius assured, and Harry nodded and dragged his trunk off. The train wasn’t too crowded yet since the whistle hadn’t gone, and he found Roderick in as empty compartment halfway towards the back. 

 

“Hey,” he said, pushing his trunk into a storage compartment and setting Hedwig in the luggage rack above the seats. 

 

Roderick looked up. “Oh, hey. Listen, I read something really weird last night, but we should wait for Delf to talk about it.”

 

“What!? No fair!” Harry objected. “You can’t just say that and not tell me anything!” 

 

“Here’s something: it’s about the diary.” 

 

“Clown,” Harry groused, sitting across from his friend. Roderick shrugged. 

 

Just then the whistle went, and there was a surge all along the platform as students made for the train. All of a sudden, there was a quick _tap-tap_ at the window. Harry and Roderick looked up, expecting Delf or one of their other friends, but no: it was Lily, and she was waving. After a moment of blank staring, Harry lifted his hand and waved back. She smiled a small smile, and the train began to move. Harry sat back as he lost sight of his mum, for once not repressing the pleasure that bubbled within him whenever his parents paid him mind. 

 

The passage was filled with kids both known and not as they jostled for compartments with their friends. Many poked their heads in to say hello, but none joined them until Tracey found them. 

 

“Harry, we’re supposed to go up to the Prefect’s carriage. Hi, Roderick,” she said, depositing her baggage under the seat.

 

“Oh! Damn, I forgot. Thanks, Trace. Be back in a bit, Roderick.” 

 

“Cheers. Hi, Tracey. Nice to see you.” Harry repressed a grin at his best friend’s sincere expression. 

 

“You too! But, bye, actually. See you soon though.”

 

Harry and Tracey set off down the train, leaving their friend alone again. “So do you know who your opposite is?” Tracey asked as they traversed a particularly crowded passage. 

 

“No idea. I didn’t think I’d get it, honestly. Well, truer to say I wasn’t thinking about it at all, but once I did get it, I had assumed my opposite would be Delf. Now I’ve got no clue. What about yours?” 

 

“I don’t know for sure, but I’ve got a fair hunch. You know Cassius Warrington? He’s sort of the top boy of our House in our year.” 

 

“The brawny one?”

 

“Not that that’s an exclusive characteristic, but yes, he’s particularly so.”

 

“Hm…” 

 

“Exactly.”

 

By then they were in the front car, and made their way into the Prefect’s carriage, where most of their associates were already gathered. Percy, who seemed to have made Head Boy along with Penelope Clearwater, was in his element bossing everyone about, even with no one listening. Harry nodded to Herbert Diafens, Jean Silk and Kenneth Fear, the elder Ravenclaw Prefects aside from Penelope. He knew the others in his year, of course: Adam Woodrow and Jenny Masters of Hufflepuff, sitting with Cedric and his partner Valerie Smith. There were Donald Pinkerton and Greer Strong of Gryffindor. The upperclass Slytherins, Lucian Bole, Lara Balassi, Graham Montague and Marge Heel had nabbed a corner for themselves, and were scowling around in an antisocial way. They had adopted Cassius into the group with no fuss. Tracey had been right on about him, and he pitied her. Seventh year Hufflepuffs Dolphis Chesterson and Judy Wu were talking to Percy’s opposite Ellen McCumber, and the sixth year Gryffindors Amar Khaloli and Kay Haslet were introducing themselves to Kelly Middlebrow. 

 

That cleared up that question in an unexpected way. She spied him as soon as he walked in and quickly cut Amar off and bounced over to him. 

 

“Hi Harry!”

 

“Oh, hi, Kelly, how are—?” 

 

“Amazing now that you’re here!” She did one of those disquieting smiles. She hadn’t changed much from his last memory of her: wavy honey blonde hair to her waist, dark blue eyes, still a bit taller than him, with cleavage nearly spilling out of her top. 

 

“Yeah, I guess I’m a little late. Has anything hap—?” 

 

“No, nothing _interesting_. Here, sit down with me. What did you do over holiday? Did you miss me?” 

 

“I mean—um—we went to Egypt, mainly—” 

 

“Wow! That’s so amazing! Did you see any mummies? Or Pyramids?” 

 

“Yeah, the Giza Pyramids—” 

 

“Hate to interrupt,” Tracey cut in, “but I’m going to go sit with Cedric and Adam and Jenny. See you later, alright? We can go back to the compartment together afterwards to sit with our friends.” She was looking at him very directly as she said this.

 

“Sure, Trace. But you can sit with us, you know—” 

 

“Oh, but if she wants to sit with the others, that’s fine too.” It was Kelly’s turn to interject. Harry observed the girls exchanging something of a charged look before Tracey went to join Cedric. He was uncomfortably reminded of some of Delf and Katie’s interactions the previous year, and wondered if there was anything he might have done to prevent it. But before he could say anything, James came in. 

 

The elder Potter blinked down at the younger. “Harry? I didn’t know I’d be seeing you here.” 

 

“Er, yeah, I guess—” 

 

“Harry, you’re so funny!” Kelly giggled. “You didn’t even tell your parents you were a Prefect? Silly!” 

 

“Well, I wasn’t hiding it or anything: I sort of forgot, actually. Tracey had to remind me to come down here. With Pettigrew and all that—” 

 

“Oh, _sure_ , but you’re far more important than that stinky old criminal,” Kelly told him, waving her lashes at him. 

 

“Who’s this, Harry?” James asked, looking at him the same sideways way Sirius had on the platform. 

 

“Oh, this is Kelly, Middlebrow. She’s in Ravenclaw with me, and we’re both Prefects now.” Other introductions might have included a ‘my friend’ in there between ‘is’ and ‘Kelly’, but it wasn’t quite true in this case. He wasn’t friends with Kelly, or enemies, or anything at all really. 

 

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter. You must be responsible for Harry turning out so well.” 

 

James looked at her, then looked at Harry. “What happened to Katie, the Quidditch player?” 

 

“We broke up last year before term ended.” 

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I liked her.” James did look quite remorseful. 

 

“Isn’t it just _so sad?_ ” Kelly linked her arm through Harry’s and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Everyone said they were _so perfect_ for each other. They never thought he’d meet _anyone_ as good for him as she was.” She hugged his arm close against herself and sighed. 

 

“…Right,” said Harry, feeling awkward and confused. So he addressed himself to James instead, disentangling his arm from Kelly’s octopus grip at the same time. She gave him a flat look and went to talk to Herbert and Jean. “Dad, what are you even doing here? You were never a Prefect: that was Uncle Remus.” 

 

“I’m just explaining what Sirius and I and the others are doing on the train, so you know what to tell students if they ask.” 

 

“Oh, that’s right. Good idea.” 

 

“Listen, Harry…” James rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at a corner. “I don’t blame you for not telling us about—” He gestured to Harry’s blue Prefect pin. “Things went a bit mad this summer, but I want you to know I’m proud of you. I think you’ll do well.” 

 

Harry’s throat tightened. “Thanks, Dad.” 

 

“But don’t give too many detentions, eh?” He grinned wryly and clapped Harry on the shoulder. 

 

Just then Percy called the room to order in that bossy voice of his, and the meeting progressed smoothly. James told them all about Pettigrew (and was immediately dubbed ‘Harry Senior’ by several of the students), then Percy and Penelope took back over and divvied up the duty roster for the year, patrols and such, and explained the specific rules for what Prefects could and couldn’t do, and then it was over and Harry and Tracey were heading back down the train. Cedric promised to drop by later after he played his friend a game of Exploding Snap, and Kelly gave him a very long, very tight hug before allowing him to leave. 

 

“Was she acting strange, do you think?” Harry asked, making sure all his ribs were still aligned properly. 

 

“Nope. Par for the course, as far as she’s concerned.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“Oh, nothing, dear.”

 

“You and Roderick: always so mysterious,” he complained. 

 

“Thank you,” she replied primly. 

 

“Say, do you fancy Roderick?” 

 

“Do I—!?” she choked.

 

“I only ask because he—” But before he had a chance to finish the sentence, he was interrupted yet again. Would he ever get a chance to finish a thought today?

 

 “Harry?” 

 

He turned around. “Katie! Hi…” He hadn’t really talked to Katie since she broke up with him last year, and seeing her again made him nervous and excited and sad all at once. 

 

“Um… Could I talk to you for a second?” Her fingers twisted uncertainly between themselves. 

 

“Sure, yeah… Trace—”

 

“I’ll see you back in the carriage. Don’t get lost.” 

 

“Gee, thanks. See you.”  He watched her make her way down the carriage for a moment, then turned back to Katie. 

 

“So can we talk?” she asked, gesturing to the door just behind her. 

 

“In the loo?”

 

“ _Yes.”_

 

“Okay…” 

 

 So they went in and Katie locked the door behind them. It was a tight squish. The train restroom was little more than a closet with a toilet and sink stuffed inside, and fitting two people in as well was a bit of a challenge. And being in such close proximity again was bringing up all sorts of memories.

 

“Okay,” Katie sighed. “Okay okay okay. Um. God. Okay, look. Getting straight to the point, I think dating again would be weird, because I don’t think either of us has changed at all, but I miss you. Especially, um, kissing and stuff.” 

 

“I, uh… I… Me too. To all of it. Agree. I do. Agree, that is.” 

 

There was a lot of happy packed into her little smile just then. “That’s good. That’s _good!_ So, um, what I was going to suggest, is that we shouldn’t date, but I was thinking more a friends-who-kiss-sometimes thing? If you’re interested? Which it’s fine if you’re not, it was just an idea…”

 

“So snog-buddies?”

 

“Well, yes.” 

 

“Sure!” 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah!”

 

“Fantastic!” 

 

They looked at each other for a while, each grinning, until the blood began to rise in his face, and she started to giggle. And then he leaned down and kissed her for the first time in several months, and it was just as nice as he remembered.

 

When they emerged several minutes later, slightly rumpled, Sirius had just entered the carriage on his patrol round and saw them immediately. Katie blushed red and hurried the opposite way back to her own compartment, but Harry grinned rakishly. 

 

“So you’re back to dating Katie?” Sirius asked, grinning an identical grin. 

 

“Nope!” he replied cheerfully. “Only the good stuff.”

 

“That’s my godson!” They exchanged high-fives, and then Sirius went along on his patrol and Harry went back to his compartment. He was bursting with energy and excitement, and couldn’t seem to stop the grin that was spreading across his face. 

 

“Ah-ha, the triumphal return. We were starting to think you really had got lost,” Tracey said with cheerful sarcasm. 

 

Oliver and Delf had arrived in the time he’d been gone, and Remus seemed to have dropped by to say hello. Roderick had apparently noticed his rather disheveled state, and asked cheekily “So, who’re you dating?” 

 

“Precisely no one,” he replied truthfully, taking the seat between Delf and the door. 

 

“Then why do you look so thoroughly snogged?” Delf asked suspiciously. 

 

“Because I am.”

 

Roderick sighed. “Oh dear.”

 

“And Remus, Sirius found us already, so there’s not use reporting to Dad.” 

 

Remus looked mildly offended. “Have a little faith in me, please.”

 

“So who is she?” Roderick urged. 

 

“I think I know,” Tracey announced, smirking. 

 

“Oh, Trace, please?” Harry pleaded. “It’s not right to kiss and tell, even if you weren’t the one kissing.” 

 

Her smile widened, her blue eyes dancing with a certain Slytherin-y glee. “It’s Katie.”

 

“ _Katie!?”_ Delf exclaimed. Harry tried to lean forward and peak at her eyes to see if the shock and anger he heard in her voice was just a figment of his imagination or not, but didn’t have any luck.

 

So “Yeah, Katie,” he said. 

 

“AGAIN?” Oliver shouted, sounding just as furious as Delf. “I thought that was over last year!” 

 

“Oi, I’m only snogging your Chaser and you’re actually dating my best friend. Who’s upset?” Oliver subsided into a grouchy silence, and Remus went on his way, promising to drop in again later. 

 

Cedric showed up a little later, and then twins and Lee Jordan found them, the four of them effectively doubling the compartment’s population. George and Cedric squeezed in between Oliver and the window while Fred and Lee sandwiched Roderick and Tracey. Delf’s body pressed so close against his side brought certain dreams back to the forefront of his mind, and he cast around desperately for something to distract him.  And lo and behold, something did occur to him. 

 

Very nonchalantly, not taking his eye off the several gnomes Fred had in an owl cage, showing them off and explaining how he was going to let them loose in Snape’s class, Harry reached over and poked Delf in the side, right where her tattoo was. She squeaked and then swatted him lightly on the arm, giggling “Harryyy, stop it!” He did the opposite. 

 

This went on for some time until Delf was laughing continuously and squirming. 

 

“Harry, stop! Eee! Stop, stop, you’re killing me!” 

 

“Killing?” he repeated. “No! _Murder_ ing!”

 

While the others shot each other looks of confusion, Roderick murmured “Oh sweet Merlin,” and buried his face in his hands. “Please, mate, we’re above bad puns, aren’t we?” 

 

Harry tickled Delf again, and she batted his hand away, giggling. “I don’t think so,” he said. 

 

Oliver stood abruptly. Harry looked up and saw that he was fuming mad. 

 

“Alright, Olly?” George asked pleasantly. 

 

“We’re going to sit with _my_ friends for a while,” he replied sourly. Harry wondered why he should be in such a bad mood. Didn’t he understand that Harry’s tickling Delf was the only way to keep his thoughts decent? He wasn’t trying to steal her away or anything. 

 

“Who’s ‘we’?” Fred wanted to know.  “Us Gryffindors?”

 

“Me and Daphne. Come on.” He took her hand and started pulling her out of her seat. Harry was about to protest, but Delf herself got there first. She pulled out of his grasp and crossed her arms mutinously. 

 

“I’m not dating your friends.” Harry heard the steel underneath her quiet tone with some discomfort. That was the ‘get out of the way or pay dearly’ voice. 

 

“Well I’m not dating yours either,” Oliver snapped. 

 

“And I never asked you to sit here, did I?” 

 

There was a moment of shocked silence, and then the twins and Lee Jordan sounded off scandalized “Ooooh!”s at each other. Oliver stared at her angrily for a moment, and then stomped out. 

 

But before any of them had time to so much as draw a breath, someone else appeared in the doorway, someone not in Hogwarts robes, someone not a Hogwarts student, someone, in fact, who shouldn’t have been on the train at all. 

 

“BOO!!” Dwight Greengrass screamed, and then burst out cackling, clutching his stomach in exaggerated mirth. 

 

“Dwight!” Delf shouted, amazed and confused and furious all at once (Harry couldn’t help but wonder what that would do to her eyes). When he heard her tone, Dwight’s face went blank with panic and he took off down the corridor at a dead run. In a split second, Delf was out of her seat and had pulled her wand out. “ _Petrificus totalus!”_ she shouted, and her brother went stiff and toppled over on his face. 

 

“No magic on the train,” Tracey said mildly. Delf stuck her tongue out at her.

 

“I thought your brother was only ten,” Roderick said in confusion. 

 

“He is,” Delf replied, hauling her brother inside with Harry and Fred’s help, and propping him up against the window. “He’s meant to be back home with Mum and Dad.” 

 

“ _He stowed away on the Hogwarts Express?_ ” Fred exclaimed, staring at the younger boy in awe. 

 

“Even Fred and I never went that far,” George breathed. 

 

“What’ll you do with him?” Tracey asked skeptically. 

 

“Damned if I know.” Delf crossed her arms and stared grumpily at her younger brother, who probably would have been thumbing his nose if he could have moved. 

 

“There are adults on the train this year, remember,” Roderick pointed out. “We could turn him over to one of the Aurors and be shot of him.” 

 

“Good idea. Oh, Merlin, my parents will be frantic! Dwight, you monster! Okay, Harry, Roderick, carry him please. We’ll go find someone to watch him for the rest of the train ride, I’ll send my parents a letter about it—Harry, can I borrow Hedwig? Thanks—and _hope_ that the rest of this day goes more quietly than it has thus far.” 

 

“The train ride is always chaos, you know that,” Roderick said, standing up. “Get his feet, Harry?” 

 

Harry obligingly reached down and grabbed Dwight’s ankles while Roderick hooked an arm around his shoulders. The boy remained as stiff as a board as they hoisted him up and followed his sister out of the compartment, tailed by the laughter of the twins, Lee, and Tracey. “Give him to Percy!” Fred called after them. 

 

It wound up being Sirius actually. They found him a couple carriages down chatting with some sixth years that he’d taught second year Defense. He laughed uproariously once he understood the situation and agreed to watch the youngest Greengrass until the train arrived in Hogsmeade. It was Roderick who pointed out that since Dwight sort of knew Sirius from years of Harry’s birthday parties, spending the next few hours in the Auror’s company wouldn’t be much of a punishment. Indeed, once they un-froze him, Dwight was downright excited about the situation. Delf muttered she was sorry they couldn’t find Percy after all as they went back down the train. 

 

But in the way was Draco, being his typical charming self and tormenting Luna Lovegood, who was wearing a strange pair of multicoloured spectacles. Draco was alone, which was unusual. He liked to have his burly shadows Crabbe and Goyle around most of the time. Harry often thought he looked like a Snitch towing two Bludgers. 

 

“…people will like you just because you’re nutty? Want to know what I heard the other day? _Loony_ Lovegood.”

 

“I thought I put a stop to that last year,” Harry muttered, remembering Beverley coining the nickname on the first night back. 

 

“Oi,” Roderick called, and the younger Malfoy turned around and scowled when he recognized them. 

 

“What do _you_ want, Roderick?” he snapped. 

 

“That’s the million Galleon question, isn’t it?” Roderick replied, sauntering towards his brother with his hands in his trouser pockets. “In the big scheme of things, I’d like long life, a beautiful wife, and health for my friends and family, but right now I’d settle for you to stop being a prat.” 

 

“Whatever. You think it’s just fine to pal around with Mudbloods and blood traitors and _crazy people_ , but as a proper Malfoy—” 

 

“Oh, go flirt with Hermione, why don’t you?” Roderick interrupted indifferently. 

 

To Harry’s everlasting shock, instead of reacting with outrage, Draco’s face when very white (whiter than usual anyway), then very red and he stammered, “What—I don’t know what you—I threw those—” 

 

“You threw those pages away, yes, very clever. A word to the wise? Burn pages you don’t want other people to read. How do you think Dad would like to see those? His only ‘proper Malfoy son’ pining away over a Muggle-born? ‘That’s Roderick’s job’, he’d say. ‘Get your head on straight or lose it’, he’d say. ‘Maybe I won’t let you inherit after all’, he’d say. Doesn’t that sound nice?” 

 

The colour in Draco’s face was building to a furious maroon, but he could do nothing but gasp and splutter against Roderick’s onslaught. Harry and Delf exchanged glances both delighted and concerned. Delighted because this might finally get Draco to knock off the bullying, but concerned because what Roderick was talking about was himself being disinherited, and that was a big deal. 

 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone… assuming you behave. Is that agreeable?” Roderick asked, grey eyes sparkling. 

 

Draco drew himself up and sneered. “You think you’ve won, but just wait.” And with that empty threat, he turned on his heel and stalked off. 

 

Luna had stood by placidly this whole time, watching with no discernible reaction. Was she even blinking behind those glasses? Harry couldn’t be sure. Roderick turned to her. “Sorry about him. He’s a right prat, so don’t listen to what he says.” 

 

“I wasn’t,” she replied dreamily. “Was he your brother? You look very similar. He has a lot of Wrackspurts.” 

 

“Er… I don’t know what those are, but we are brothers, yes.” 

 

“Would you like to come sit with us?” Harry asked on a whim. “I think your dad and our tutor are working together on Crumple-Horned Snorkacks this year.” 

 

“Oh, that’s alright. This toad has lost his boy, so I have to find him.” She pulled Trevor out of her satchel, and the amphibian blinked around in an unimpressed way. “Thank you though. I expect to see you all later.” 

 

“Okay, bye,” Harry replied, lifting his hand in salutation as she drifted off in the opposite direction Draco had gone, back the way they had just come. He sighed once she had left the compartment and the door slid shut behind her. “I almost forget what it’s like to have an uneventful train ride,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s go back to our compartment.”

 

“Anyway,” Delf said as they waded through a gaggle of second-years. “What was all that about Draco and Hermione? I thought he would laugh in your face.” 

 

“I really don’t understand how I managed not to tell you that,” Roderick replied, rolling his eyes. “A couple weeks ago, I found some pages in the waste-basket of Draco trying to rationalize his feelings for ‘ _that filthy M-word Granger… Hermione.’_ ” He sighed dreamily over the last word, mimicking how he thought Draco felt when he wrote it. “He went on and on about how she was the only girl he regularly interacts with who doesn’t fall over herself to impress him or whatever, and it was just a sick fascination, not real attraction, it’s what a person would feel for an ugly dog, and on and on. It was sad, but quite funny. They’re in my trunk.” 

 

Delf was giggling. “That’s _adorable_. He may murder you in your sleep though.” 

 

“I wouldn’t be too worried about him getting past the eagle knocker,” Harry chuckled.

 

“Actually,” she went on after a moment of silence. “Are you two sure your brothers are separate people? They both think they’re the embodiment of their House, they both think they’re the ‘proper’ son even though they’re bratty and younger, and they’re both terrible drama queens.” 

 

Harry and Roderick glanced at each other. “Good point,” Roderick agreed. 

 

“No wonder they hate each other,” Harry added.

 

As if summoned by their talking about him, Tom appeared. “Harry!” he exclaimed, waving a sheet of parchment in the air. “Have you seen Dad? I need him.” 

 

“He should be up near the front of the train,” Harry replied. “Why?” 

 

“I need him to sign my Hogsmeade permission form.” 

 

As one, the three Ravenclaws burst out laughing. 

 

“Damn, you’re a third year, that’s right,” Harry chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. “Like I said, up near the front of the train. I can’t believe you forgot that till now.”

 

“Well… shut up, Harry, I was really busy this summer,” Tom said angrily, and pushed past them towards the front of the train. 

 

They made it back to their compartment with no further encounters with any of their younger brothers. The twins and Lee Jordan had gone off somewhere, but Tracey was still there, reading. The window revealed that it was getting dark and had started to rain, and they all sat down, Roderick next to Tracey and Harry and Delf across from them. Delf sent a note about Dwight to her parents, and then they chatted about nothing while it grew to full dark outside and the lanterns flickered on, until eventually the train slowed to a stop. 

 

“We can’t be there already,” Roderick said, peering out the window.  “Look, we’re in the middle of nowhere.” 

 

“What else would the train be stopping for?” Delf asked, quite logically. 

 

“I don’t know,” Roderick replied. “But we’re not at Hogsmeade. Wait, look, there are shapes moving out there. Is someone coming aboard?” 

 

Tracey and Harry crowded up behind the other two to see what was happening, but just then the lanterns flickered out. 

 

“Hey—!” 

 

“Oof!”

 

“Ouch, Harry, let go of my hair!” 

 

“Sorry.”

 

“What’s going on?” 

 

“ _Lumos._ ” A clear white light bloomed from the tip of Roderick’s wand, and they all stared around at each other in confusion. 

 

“Have we broken down, do you think?” Tracey wondered. 

 

“ _Can_ the Hogwarts Express break down?” Delf wondered back.

 

“Maybe my dad or Sirius will know,” Harry said. “I’ll go find one of them.” He got up and reached for the door, but it slid open before he touched it. 

 

“What the—” Roderick gasped. 

 

The figure that stood in the doorway, barely illuminated by the wand-light, was as high as the ceiling, and it was entirely swathed in a black cloak, hiding even its face. But its hand appeared between the folds, and it was grey, slimy-looking, and scabby, as if it had been rotting underwater. Harry stared in horror. He had seen illustrations, and read about them in the newspaper, especially since Pettigrew had escaped, but he had never seen one in person, and now he learned that he had been perfectly happy that way. Dementors were terrifying. 

 

Before any of them could say a word, the Dementor drew a deep, rattling breath, as if it had been drowning or starving, and was taking its first breath or bite in a long time. At once, a wave of cold swept through the compartment, and Harry felt his chest freeze mid-breath. The cold spread in through his skin, crackled through his blood to his heart and his brain. He felt his eyes roll back, there was a rushing like water in his ears, a bright white light was going to swallow him, but then he heard voices, as if from far away…

 

_The voice of an old woman, tremulous but bold. “I’ll not let you near my grandsons.”_

“ _No need for a noble pureblood woman such as yourself to die,” replied a cold, high voice. “Move aside and I shall spare you.”_

“ _No!” the woman begged. “Take me instead of the boys. They haven’t done anything!”_

“ _Move aside!” the high voice snarled._

“ _No, don’t kill the boys!”_

“Aveda Kadavra!” 

_A thump, and Harry’s mind spiraled into unconsciousness._

 

A minute or an hour or a few years later, someone was shaking him and shouting “Harry! Harry!” A hand slapped him sharply across the cheek, and another voice said “Delf, calm down. Can’t you see he’s waking up?” 

 

Harry heaved a deep breath, and opened his eyes. “What happened?” he asked groggily. The figures gathered around him were blurry for a moment, but then they dissolved into Roderick, Delf, Tracey, Sirius, and James. He was propped up under the window, and saw beyond the immediate ring of faces, the door was jam-packed with students. Colin Creevey and his camera were there, and Lawrence and Will and Andrew, and Abigail his Quidditch Captain, and Dwight Greengrass, and Cedric, and the two Prefects on duty, Lara and Dolphis, and many others craning to see in. He sat up straighter and rubbed the back of his head. It felt like he’d hit it when he fell. 

 

“You fainted!” Delf said shrilly. “It got all cold, and you just fell down and started twitching!” 

 

“Eat this,” James said, holding out a square of dark chocolate. “Remus had it. He says it helps.” 

 

Harry put the sweet in his mouth, and a degree of warmth spread through his body. “How are you?” he asked, nodding to Roderick and Delf and Tracey. “I mean, did you…?” 

 

“We’re fine,” Roderick reassured him. “I mean, it was really cold, and it was like everything good went out of the world, but you were the only one who… well, you know…” 

 

“Tom did as well, actually,” James put in. “But he was only unconscious for a few moments and woke up some time ago. You’ve been out nearly fifteen minutes.” 

 

“Oh,” said Harry, as the implications of all that sank in. It was alright if Tom passed out. He could talk it off as a Boy Who Lived thing. But Harry had also blacked out, for quite some time apparently, and what was he meant to say about that? “It’s a Potter thing”? James hadn’t fainted. Well, he had to think of something, and fast. This would get on the Hogwarts rumour mill faster than the Lindsey thing had. And those voices he’d heard… It was pretty obvious who they were and what was happening, but he needed time to come to terms with the fact that he’d just heard the last moments of Grandma Potter’s life. All at once, he wondered what Tom had heard. “I think I’m okay,” he told the circle, and stood up with the help of the bench to his right. He actually felt quite shivery and weird, but he was trying to put a good face on. The train was moving again, and the lanterns were working. The others stood up too, each of them with concern or some variation of that writ wide on their faces. Delf’s eyes were hazel, and Roderick had his arms crossed. 

 

“Dad, why—why were there Dementors on the train at all?” Harry asked, pushing hard against the waver in his voice. “I thought you and Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus and Mr Shacklebolt were security, why…. Why?” 

 

James took off his rectangular glasses and rubbed a hand across his face. “I didn’t know they’d been authorized to search the train. When I get my hands on Fudge…. setting Dementors off around _children_ , I swear…”

 

“But they’re gone now?” Harry asked urgently.

 

“Yes, they’re gone, I made sure of that.” His father’s voice was grim. “But now that you’re awake, I’m going to talk to the driver. That was _absurd._ Lily will have a fit… Oh, Merlin, _Lily will have a fit._ ” He left the compartment looking quite agitated, and the students outside made way for him, many calling “Mr. Potter, what’s going on?” or “Harry Senior, is Harry Junior okay?” 

 

Harry “Junior” sank onto the bench while the crowd in the passage dissipated, doubtless to spread the story to the far corners of the train. The whole school would know what had happened by the time the feast started. 

 

It turned out that they were only ten minutes away from Hogsmeade, but that didn’t stop James from popping his head in four different times to ‘check in’. Harry appreciated the gesture, though it got annoying after the second time. Once they arrived at the Station, and Delf made sure that Dwight was properly handed off her to her very-disgruntled parents, they hurried through the rain for the horseless carriages which took them quickly up to the castle. Two more Dementors were stationed outside the school gates, and Harry felt lightheaded and nauseous until they were well past. Were they going to be at the school as well as on the train? For how long? He couldn’t feel so sick and dizzy all the time, he’d fail all his classes and who knew what kind of trouble Tom would get up to! Delf watched him with deep concern etched in her expression as he rubbed his hands over his face. 

 

Fortunately, they were soon hurrying up the broad stairs into the Entrance Hall and the old excitement of being back at Hogwarts was just warming his insides when he heard a sharp voice calling “Potter! Granger! Potter!” Since Hermione was included, he assumed whoever it was wanted Tom and kept going. But no, “Mister Harry Potter, I was speaking to you as well!” Harry twisted his head around to see Professor McGonagall standing on the marble staircase, looking stern and prim as ever. Wondering what on earth she could have to say to him and Tom and Hermione all at once, he told Delf and Roderick to grab them seats and struggled through the throng to get to her. Tom, Ron and Hermione arrived just on his heels, all of them looking anxious. 

 

“There’s no need to look so worried—I just want a word in my office,” she told them. “Move along there, Weasley.” 

 

She led Harry, Tom and Hermione away up the stairs, leaving Ron behind, looking a little like a kicked puppy. They were in her office in short order, a small room with a large fire, and she gestured for the three students to sit down while she went behind her desk. Without any sort of preamble, she said “Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say you’d taken ill on the train, boys.” 

 

Tom and Harry glanced at each other. 

 

“It wasn’t quite ‘ill’, Professor,” Harry began, but just then there was a knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey came bustling in. Tom looked appalled. For himself, Harry was merely embarrassed. He’d fainted on the train, but surely all this fuss wasn’t necessary. 

 

“Oh, it’s you again, is it?” she said, setting her fists on her hips when she saw Harry and Tom. “I suppose you’ve been doing something dangerous again.” 

 

“It was the Dementors, Poppy,” McGonagall said, and they exchanged dark glances. 

 

“Setting Dementors around the school,” Pomfrey muttered, pushing Harry’s fringe back to feel his forehead. “These two won’t be the first to collapse. Yes, they’re still clammy, particularly this one.” She pointed to Tom. “Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate—”

 

“I’m not delicate!” Tom blustered. 

 

“Of course not,” Pomfrey agreed absently, and Harry grinned at his feet. 

 

“So what do they need?” McGonagall asked crisply. “Bed rest? Perhaps they should spend the night in the Hospital Wing?” 

 

“NO!” Tom shouted. “Malfoy wouldn’t— that is, we’re _fine_ ,” he corrected himself, leaning away from Madam Pomfrey, who was trying to examine his pupils. 

 

“For once I agree, Professor. I felt pretty terrible on the train, and again when we passed them at the gates, but I’m alright now. I wouldn’t say quite ‘well’ yet, but I don’t need treatment.” 

 

“Well, you should at least have some chocolate,” Madam Pomfrey declared, delving into one of the large pockets on her apron. 

 

“We’ve had some,” Harry said quickly. “Uncle Re… Professor Lupin had a big bar of it.” 

 

“Did he now?” Madam Pomfrey said approvingly. “So we’ve finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies.”

 

“He’s my god-father,” Tom put in, and Harry nudged him to make him shut up. 

 

“Are you sure you’re alright, boys? Especially you, Harry. Professor Flitwick heard you were unconscious for nigh on fifteen minutes, so he asked me to make sure.” 

 

“I’m fine,” Harry replied, flattered by the small kindness. 

 

“And I am too,” Tom reiterated belligerently. 

 

“Very well. Kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger about her timetable, then we can go down to the feast together.” 

 

Harry had actually forgotten that Hermione was there, but he obediently dragged Tom out by the scruff of his neck, as the younger Gryffindor looked dreadfully curious at what his Head of House had to say to his friend. Madam Pomfrey left too, and left them outside the office, muttering to herself as she returned to the Hospital Wing. Hermione wasn’t inside long, and she emerged looking eminently smug about something. Tom began begging to know what it was, and she firmly refused to tell him as McGonagall led them down to the Great Hall, where Professor Flitwick was just taking the Sorting Hat and three-legged stool off the stage. 

 

“Oh, we’ve missed the Sorting,” Hermione sighed regretfully.

 

They all split apart then: McGonagall went up to her empty place at the staff table, Tom and Hermione scuttled off towards Gryffindor’s table, and Harry went along the Ravenclaw one in search of Delf and Roderick. It seemed that each and every student turned to murmur to their neighbor when he and Tom came in. Just as expected: the story had gotten around faster than if a Snitch had carried it. 

 

“What did she want?” Delf whispered as soon as he sat down next to her, both of them across from Roderick. 

 

“Just to make sure Tom and I were alright. Remus wrote ahead after we fainted apparently.” 

 

“But then why did Hermione—”

 

But then Dumbledore stood up, and the whole Hall went quiet. “Welcome,” he said, smiling around as the candlelight glinted off his half-moon spectacles.  “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become too befuddled boy our excellent feast…” Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued. “As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business.” He took a significant pause. 

 

“Not happy about that, obviously,” Roderick murmured, and Harry half-grinned. For once he and the Headmaster were on the same page.

 

“They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds,” the Headmaster continued, “and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave the school grounds without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises—or Invisibility Cloaks,” he added blandly. Harry glanced sharply at Tom, who had gone quite red. “It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the Prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs foul of the Dementors.” 

 

Percy thrust his chest out and stared around importantly in the silence that followed. Dumbledore paused again and looked around the Hall. No one moved or made a sound. 

 

“Oh a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. 

 

“First, Professor Remus Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” 

 

Applause for Lupin was scattered and halfhearted, except from Harry’s group and Tom’s and a few others.  He did look shabby compared to the other professors as he stood up and bowed. Harry knew his parents and Sirius tried to help as much as they could, but Lupin’s pride would not allow outright charity. 

 

“As to our second appointment, well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limb. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.” 

 

There was no reaction for a moment, and then the Hall burst into applause. Harry clapped has hard as he could: he knew how much it meant for Hagrid to be a teacher, and how well he would love the subject. When the thunder of cheering finally died away, Hagrid was dabbing his ruby-red face with the table-cloth. 

 

“Well, I think that’s everything of importance,” Dumbledore said genially. “Let the feast begin!” 

 

Food appeared on the plates, and drink in the cups, and suddenly Harry felt as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. He had somehow missed the candy trolley—between the Prefect meeting, Katie, running around with various friends’ brothers, and the Dementor, it wasn’t hard to imagine—and now he was famished. He was excited to go greet and congratulate Hagrid until he remembered that he had to help get the first-years up to Ravenclaw Tower. 

 

“Go tell Hagrid hello, will you?” he said to Delf and Roderick as Dumbledore dismissed everyone for the night and students began to rise. 

 

“Sure, but wait,” Roderick said. “We should meet after lights-out. I never got to talk about that thing I read. Two hours from now?” 

 

“Right,” Harry agreed, and the other two waved as they went off towards the staff table and Harry joined Herbert, Penelope, Kenneth, Jean, and Kelly in calling out for first-year Ravenclaws to follow them. Harry recognized a couple from the Muggle Meet-and-Greet, and stuck with them near the end of the queue, explaining which portraits were eavesdroppers and which way the moving stairs went and some secret passages to be aware of. In fact, he tried to avoid the rest of the students entirely. He was extremely tired, and didn’t feel like a lengthy rehashing of the Dementor incident. When one of the Muggle-born boys asked if he was the one who fainted on the train, he had to say yes, but when pressed for why, he managed to get away with “I don’t know. Some magic is mysterious even to wizards.” Which was perfectly true, if not quite applicable to a situation where an answer might be very easily found and he just didn’t know it. 

 

Herbert took care of the knocker’s riddle, and there was a general squash as everyone jammed into the common room. Harry led the boys up to their dormitory, and then went up to the second landing to his own dorm. His things were there, as usual, and Hedwig perched primly on his bedpost, despite there being no windows. He smiled at her as he dug through his trunk for some pajamas and was washing his teeth when Lawrence, Andrew, and Will arrived, jovial and talkative. 

 

Harry tried to be cheerful with them, and fended off their joshing with as much wit and energy as he could muster. It honestly wasn’t much though, and they quickly saw that and allowed him to slither into bed, taking directions to tell Roderick to wake him up ‘later’ (a convenient term which could be construed to mean any number of things). 

 

His head felt full of syrup when Roderick shook his shoulder two hours on, but he rubbed his eyes and stumbled down stairs as heroically as he could. Delf was waiting in a dressing gown in front of the fireplace in the alcove under the boy’s dorms. Because it was the first day back, they had the common room entirely to themselves, an unusual luxury. 

 

“So what’s all this that’s so important I’m not in bed?” Harry asked sleepily. 

 

“Remember when you overheard Quirrel talking about getting your brother to steal the Philosopher’s Stone?” 

 

“Yeah. But listen, if this is about the Philosopher’s Stone, it can definitely—” 

 

“It’s not. I was saying that you hauled us out of bed to talk about that, so now it’s my turn. Okay?” 

 

“Fine, fine.”He plopped onto the sofa next to Delf and laid his head on her shoulder. She immediately put her arm around his shoulder and tugged at his shirt, and his Horntail appeared at her touch, coiling and grinning like the tickled kitten it became under its creator’s fingers. 

 

“So what _is_ this about, Roderick?” Delf asked, beginning to card her fingers through Harry’s hair. 

 

“Well, I told Harry it was about the diary, but there were other people about when you arrived, so you didn’t get that.”

 

“No fair!”

 

“Your own fault for bringing Oliver,” Harry mumbled reproachfully. She flicked him on the forehead, and he winced. 

 

“Focus, dolts,” Roderick said severely. He stood between them and the fire so that he was silhouetted quite dramatically by the dying flames. 

 

“Okay, let’s have it out and go to bed,” Harry suggested. 

 

“Alright. Last night, I was poking around my dad’s study, which is where all the interesting books are, because Master Jerome told us to look into possessed things that aren’t possessed, but nothing ever came of that. But I found something last night. Have you ever heard of Horcruxes?” 

 

Harry shook his head, though it was really more of a wobble since he was still leaning on Delf. “What are they?” his pillow asked eagerly. 

 

“Really serious Dark magic,” Roderick replied gravely, which dampened Delf’s excitement not at all. 

 

“Well, I did blood magic in our tattoos—” 

 

“No, Delf. You have to kill someone to make a Horcrux.” 

 

“Oh…” 

 

“And you think Riddle’s diary was… one of these things?” Harry asked, a great deal more alert now.

 

“A Horcrux. Yes, I do think so. The way it works is that killing someone basically rips your soul in two, and then you can put a piece of your soul inside an object, and that’s a Horcrux. I think the diary was the piece of Riddle’s soul that broke off when he made the Basilisk kill Myrtle. It’s just a theory, but…” 

 

“No, that makes sense,” Harry agreed, struggling to sit up. In turn, Delf leaned up against him. “But if Riddle went on to become Voldemort, and a bit of his soul was alive till just last year, what does that… mean?” They glanced amongst each other uneasily. 

 

“Well, you beat it, Harry. Anything else is too scary to think about in the middle of the night in an empty, dark-ish room. Was that everything, Roderick?” 

 

“Just about, yeah. Let’s go to bed. Harry looks like baked shit.” 

 

“And you would too if you had had his day,” Delf replied sharply as she stood up. 

 

“It’s fine, Delf,” Harry mollified, standing up as well. “If I said what Roderick looked like, I’d wake up tomorrow with the family jewels missing.” Roderick snorted. 

 

“You brought jewelry to school?” Delf said skeptically. “Why—oh….”

 

Harry had to physically restrain Delf from attacking Roderick, who had sunk into an armchair in helpless spasms of laughter. By the time they both calmed down, Harry was laughing himself, and he didn’t drop his arms from where they pinned Delf’s to her sides. 

 

“And with that, it’s bedtime,” Roderick declared, and started for the stairs to the boy’s dorms. “Night Delf.”

 

“Night,” Harry repeated, and accidentally kissed her, just on the temple. Accidentally. Kissed. Delf.

 

He let go of her at once and bee-lined for the stairs after Roderick. 

 

“Good night, Harry,” she replied softly, and he risked a glance back. She was softly illuminated by the dim fire, and her eyes reflected its golden colour. With a jerky, nervous nod, he dashed up to the safety of his dorm. 

 

 _For some reason, Delf was wearing Harry’s Quidditch jersey and some of those frilly knickers Tracey had given her for her birthday, and nothing else. “I want you, Harry,” she said coyly. This time they were in her dorm—the four beds besides hers were empty and dream logic told him that none of the other girls would be coming in any time soon. He advanced towards her eagerly and she lay back against the pillow and smiled like a cat. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him down and_ he hit the floor with a painful bump. “Ow,” he groaned, sitting up in a tangle of sheets and blankets. 

 

Roderick stood on the other side of the bed, arms crossed, hair tousled from sleep. 

 

“Did you just push me out of bed?” Harry demanded angrily. 

 

“Yes,” Roderick replied. “We’re all very glad you’re having a nice time, but we’re trying to sleep.” 

 

Harry looked around to see Lawrence, Andrew and Will sitting up in bed, hiding chuckles behind their hands. 

 

“You already get all the girls you want in real life, Harry,” Will called cheekily. “Do you really need to dream of them too?”

 

“This day needs to end already,” Harry groaned. 

 

Luckily, the next day was the first day of classes, and everyone in their year was too worried over the looming specter of O.W.L.s to give any mind to Harry’s nocturnal antics, even if his dorm-mates had chosen to share them. What happened in the boy’s dorm stayed in the boys dorm, stemming from the time in first year when they told Will there was Truth Serum in the Chocolate Cauldrons Harry and Roderick nicked (were given) from the kitchens, and spent the night answering every question they asked, including that he used to dress in his sister’s clothes and pretend to be a Muggle princess. 

 

Harry, Delf and Roderick went down to the Great Hall (Harry keeping Roderick carefully between him and Delf, very much aware of the accidental kiss of the previous night), to find Draco reenacting a dramatic fainting scene, to the vast amusement of the rest of the Slytherins. Tom was sitting a little way down Gryffindor Table, looking miserable. 

 

“Muggle-borns,” Roderick called, and Draco stared over at him in fury and terror before sinking down onto the bench and continuing his breakfast quietly while his erstwhile audience looked mystified. 

 

They took seats next to a few of their year who had made it down before them. Andrew handed Delf and Roderick their timetables, pointing back and forth between them emphatically to indicate they should trade, as his mouth was full of fried tomatoes. 

 

“I have yours, Harry,” said Kelly, batting her eyelashes like on the train. She held the page out across the table. “You’re taking such _intelligent_ classes.” 

 

“Er, thank—”

 

“Oh, don’t mention it. I _like_ helping you.” 

 

“Uh…” He reached for his timetable in hopes of ending the conversation. It was a shame she acted so weird all the time: she was really pretty. But before he could take the page, someone else’s hand got there first and snatched it from Kelly. 

 

“Let’s see what we have together, Harry,” Delf said, holding his schedule up beside hers. “Double Potions first thing Monday, yuck. But then you have a free hour after lunch, that’s good. Then Ancient Runes with me, how nice.” She handed his one to him, and he saw with some alarm that her face was placid, but her eyes were a murderous, glimmering orange. 

 

Wondering what he’d done, he hurried to sit them down and get through breakfast, so that Potions could distract her. 

 

It worked. Having Remus in the castle had done nothing for Snape’s temperament, and he stalked among the fifth year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs like an angry black bat. He deducted points indiscriminately for every minor mistake, and awarded none, even though Roderick’s assignment was flawless. They left the class grumbling and grouchy, but Delf was no longer inexplicably furious. Relieved for that, though exhausted by everything else, Harry had just sat down to enjoy a plate of stew when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Swallowing a half-chewed piece of meat, he turned to find Ron and Hermione, looking nervous and distracted. 

 

“Yes?” he asked, sounding slightly less patient than he meant to. 

 

“Um!” Hermione squeaked, and blushed. 

 

“It’s Tom,” Ron explained, giving Hermione a glance. “You see, we just had Divination, and—” 

 

“She said he was going to die? Oh, that gullible… I’ll go talk to him. Where is he?” 

 

“We left him moping around the Trophy Room,” Ron said with some relief. 

 

“Oh-a.Eeoo a-er,” Harry grunted around one last over-large mouthful of stew and got up, slinging his bookbag over his shoulder. 

 

“What was that?” he heard Delf ask as he hurried out, chewing. 

 

“I think ‘Ok, see you later’, but really I’m not sure…” 

 

The happy noise of the Great Hall faded to nothing as he trotted up the marble staircase to the rest of the castle. The Trophy Room was a bit of a way off, and he mentally rehearsed ways to make the upcoming conversation as short as possible. “You’re not going to die” seemed the likeliest candidate, but that probably required a little preamble… 

 

Tom was, indeed, moping around the Trophy Room. He was standing in front of a large plaque carved with **Dedicated to** (here a few smaller words Harry couldn’t see) **For Special Services to the School** in fancy script. His hands were in his pockets, and his head was cocked thoughtfully to the side. He looked a bit posed, really. A little like he hoped someone would happen in and find him looking dramatic. But as he came up behind his brother, he saw that the few words in the middle were ‘Tom Marvolo Riddle’, and his stomach did a queer nervous flip. Perhaps the dramatics were less feigned than usual. 

 

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Tom said thoughtfully. “That a person like him could get this, while a person like me…” He sighed deeply. “I suppose I always knew it. Riddle said it himself, in the Chamber last year. I’ve lived out twelve years of borrowed time, and sooner or later, my luck had to run out. I’ve been important though, haven’t I Harry? I defeated Voldemort, that’s a big deal… I just wish… I’m awfully young, aren’t I?” 

 

“You’re not going to die,” Harry said, sticking to the shortest variation after all. 

 

Tom turned on him, hazel eyes angry and tearful behind his wire-rimmed spectacles. “She’s a Seer, Harry! It’s her fate and her curse to see the future, and we who aren’t burdened with that gift can only trust and accept. _She saw the Grim in my tea leaves._ ” 

 

“She ‘predicted’ I would die too!” Harry exclaimed, resisting the urge to shake his brother by the shoulders. 

 

“Oh, Harry…” Tom breathed, clearly horrified. “What will Mum and Dad do with both of us gone?” 

 

Harry stared down at Tom in slack-jawed disbelief. “You’re serious. Wow… Okay, listen. She picks someone from every class to tell that to. It’s a trick to make everyone sit up and pay attention. In all her years of teaching, none of the students she predicted would die have died.”

 

Tom looked marginally calmer. “Are you sure?” 

 

“Yes,” Harry lied stoutly. 

 

He sniffed and wiped his eyes surreptitiously. “Well,” he coughed. “While I’m relieved, I also have to admit that I’m very disappointed in her for using such a cheap trick just to get attention.” 

 

“Yes, well, that’s what you get for being so easily fooled. Is the crisis over? I have Potions work. Already.” Not that he was bitter about that or anything. 

 

He started to make for the door, but Tom called out, “Harry?” He was still in front of Riddle’s trophy, staring fixedly at his feet. 

 

“What?” 

 

“It’s just… I’m sorry that I haven’t been a proper brother. I’ve never been there for you, or done anything for you like you have for me… I’ve been a bit self-centered, I suppose, so… I’m sorry.” 

 

“Oh, well, that’s alright,” Harry replied, touched, but awkward and caught off-guard. “Just so long as you know, I guess.” Tom lifted his shoulders, half a shrug and half a shake to get the last feelings of responsibility off. “Come on,” Harry continued. “Let’s see if lunch is still going. I got about two bites down before I came up here.”

 

This time Tom went with him, and they were through the first hallway before he said anything. 

 

“On, that subject,” he said, sounding uncomfortable, “we never had another brother, did we? Say, one older than you, or a twin of you, maybe?” 

 

“No, neither,” Harry replied, completely confused. “Where in the world did that come from?” 

 

“Um, nowhere, really. That is, I was just thinking…” 

 

“Mum was pregnant with me when they graduated Hogwarts, so there wasn’t one before me. And you’ve seen their wedding pictures. No twin. Think about making sense before you open your mouth next time.” Tom scowled. “What classes do you have today, besides Divination?” 

 

“Transfiguration was right before that, and Care of Magical Creatures coming up after lunch.” 

 

“Is that Hagrid’s first class? I think I’d like to go with you to that. I’ve got a free hour, and he may get a little too enthusiastic.” The stupid potions homework could wait for the evening. 

 

They went down through the castle till they reached the marble staircase, only to be met by a great throng of students, all of whom had just finished their meal and were on their way to classes. 

 

“We missed lunch!” Tom lamented once they were in front of the empty Great Hall and the tide of students had ebbed. 

 

“I noticed,” Harry replied. “But if we’re to get to class on time, we should make a rush: let’s go.” 

 

The weather outside was a good deal warmer than it had been during his run in the small hours of the morning. The high clouds were soft and gray, and the grass was fresh and springy. They were far behind the rest of the class, and by hurrying, they only managed to make it to the back of Hagrid’s house with the last of the stragglers. 

 

“…Great lesson comin’ up!” Hagrid was saying as they arrived. “Everyone here? Right, follow me!” He led them past his pumpkin patch and along the edge of the forest for some distance until they reached a sort of paddock. That might have been significant, but that it was empty. 

 

“Everyone gather round the fence here!” Hagrid called. “That’s it—make sure you can see. Now, firs’ thing yeh’ll want ter do is open yer book—” 

 

“And just how do we do that?” Draco drawled. 

 

“Eh?” said Hagrid. Harry surveyed the brewing scene with keen attention, ready to intervene the instant it became necessary. “Why, you stroke ‘em, of course.” 

 

“Oh, how silly we’ve all been!” Draco sneered, earning giggles and guffaws from his Slytherin posse.  “We should have _stroked_ them! Why didn’t we guess.” 

 

Harry cleared his throat and called, “Hermione, you look nice today.” Everyone stopped looking at Draco and Hagrid and looked at him instead. Hermione’s face was pink and pleased while Draco’s was glowing a bright vermillion. Luckily for him, no one was looking at him anymore. “So Hagrid, what are we doing today?” 

 

Hagrid gave him a grateful glance before clapping his huge hands and declaring “Well, so much for the books, but now we need the Magical Creatures! You lot stay here.” And he strode off into the forest. The students he’d left behind turned to each other and started talking, many wondering what sort of animal he would bring out, but some tittering to each other about Harry’s apparent declaration of attraction for Hermione. He didn’t really mind that rumors would be spread about them. He had lived through worse things, and it might even dim some of the circulating Dementor stories. 

 

Just then, a girl in Hermione’s dorm (Lavender something… Black? No, Brown. She wasn’t related to Sirius) squealed “Oooooooh!” and pointed across the corral. Harry’s mouth fell open. _That_ was Hagrid’s idea of a good first lesson? Hippogriffs? As with the Dementors, Harry had seen engravings of Hippogriffs before, in books and such, but he wasn’t likely to find something as deadly-looking in a library book as the creatures currently coming towards them, except maybe in the Restricted Section. He supposed they looked… healthy. They had all the proper parts, at least. The hind ends of horses, and the heads, wings, and front feet of gigantic eagles. Their beaks and talons were the colour of steel, and their eyes matched Delf’s when she was mad. 

 

There were about a dozen of them, ranging from pale roan to shining chestnut to inky black, and everything in between. “Gee up there!” Hagrid roared, shaking the long chains that attached to leather collars all the Hippogriffs wore. “HIPPOGRIFFS!” he bellowed once they were all tied to the fence (the whole class and Harry stepped back a few paces). “Beau’iful, aren’ they?” No one said anything. “So,” he beamed around at them all. “If yer want ter come a bit nearer…” 

 

Harry was the first to take him up on the suggestion, and there were a few hesitant steps behind him, most likely of the Gryffindorian variety. 

 

“Now, firs’ thing yeh gotta know abou’ Hippogriffs is they’re proud,” said Hagrid. “Easily offended, Hippogriffs are. Don’t never insult one, ‘cause it might be the last thing yeh do. Yeh always wait fer the Hippogriff ter make the firs’ move. It’s polite, see? Yeh walk towards him, an’ yeh bow, an’ ye wait. If he bows back, yeh’re allowed ter touch him. If he doesn’ bow, then get away from him sharpish, ‘cause those talons hurt. Right.” He clapped his huge hands together, badly startling a few of the girls. “Who wants ter go first?” 

 

Harry actually did not want to go first, if at all, but Hagrid’s sad and puzzled look that grew as the silent volunteer-less moments passed made the decision for him. “Sure,” he said reluctantly, stepping up to the fence and climbing over. 

 

“Good man, Harry!” Hagrid boomed. “Right then—let’s see how yeh get on with Buckbeak.” He went over to the grey Hippogriff and slipped the collar over its head. Harry quite accidentally met its eyes, and felt immediately pinned to the ground. The orange colour was deeply associated with anger for him, and it took some very conscious effort to dispel that impression. “Easy, now, Harry,” Hagrid said quietly. “Yeh’ve got eye-contact, now try not ter blink—Hippogriffs don’ trust yeh if yeh blink too much…” 

 

Right on cue, his eyes started to itch, but he ignored the feeling. Buckbeak swung his great sloping head around and regarded him contemptuously. 

 

“Tha’s it… Tha’s it, Harry… now, bow…” 

 

Despite his very strong misgivings about exposing the back of his neck to this animal, he thought that there was something very much like a Gryffindor about Hippogriffs: they probably felt honor-bound to not rip people up unless actually incited to do so. He bent at the waist, and spent a few seconds staring at Buckbeak’s quite intimidating talons. Then, out of the top of his vision, he saw the scaly knees above the scary toenails flex and meet the ground in an unmistakable bow. 

 

“Oh, well done, Harry! Well done!” Hagrid said, clearly thrilled as Harry straightened back up. “I reckon you can touch him now—go on, pat his beak!” 

 

Harry went forward dubiously and scruffled the short feathers above the Hippogriff’s beak. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Hagrid: rather, he didn’t trust Hagrid’s definition of ‘tame’ to be too far off from ‘wild’. But Buckbeak only half-closed his eyes, as if enjoying a lazy nap in the sunshine, and Harry had to grin. It almost seemed to smile as he worked his way up towards its ears, and when it snapped at him, it was in an ‘I’m a Hippogriff and you’re a human, but maybe we could get on’ way, not an ‘I’m a Hippogriff and you look tasty’ way. 

 

“Aww, look a’ tha’!” Hagrid cooed. “Beaky made frien’s! Okay, who else wants to go?”

 

Inspired by Harry’s success, the third years came around the fence and spread through the herd. Tom, Ron and Hermione went over to the pinkish roan, and Lavender and an Indian girl he vaguely recognized came up to him. 

 

“That was really brave of you to go first, Harry,” Lavender said shyly. “Do you think you could help me and Parvati meet one?” 

 

Since Hagrid was across the paddock with Neville, he agreed, and led them over to a pretty chestnut mare that stood a little way off from Buckbeak, who was regarding Draco dubiously. 

 

“So make sure you look respectful, but not scared,” Harry suggested to the two girls, completely flying by the seat of his pants.  “Go ahead and try bowing first, Lavender.” He stepped away to give them space, surveying the activities in the paddock. The roan was allowing herself to be petted by Tom and Ron, but had chased Hermione off, probably thinking her to be a rival female. A few students from Slytherin were being ignored by the large black stallion, and Neville was bowing to a shiny chestnut. 

 

Then out of the corner of his ear, he heard Draco muttering “Respect these beasts? As if… I bet they’re not even dangerous at all.” Harry turned in alarm. Was Draco _that_ stupid? “Are you, you great ugly brute?” 

 

It all happened in a moment: Buckbeak reared up, and Harry, with his Seeker-trained speed, darted in and shoved Draco to the ground just as those intimidating talons he’d observed during his bow came flashing down. Sharp ripping pain flared across his left arm, and he crumpled to his knees, clenching his teeth. 

 

“I’m dying!” Draco yelled, clutching his chest, which is where Harry’s elbow had hit him. “I’m dying, look at me! It’s killed me!” 

 

“He didn’t even hit you,” Harry gritted out as the rest of the class panicked. Several people started to scream, and the Hippogriffs danced around anxiously, flexing their wings. For himself, Buckbeak was a picture of shock, regret, and sorrow, and was hesitantly nuzzling Harry’s head. Harry let him, and that had to suffice as an accepted apology. He pulled desperately on his meditation training to ward off shock, and took a deep breath before looking down at the wound. A single long gash sliced his robes and his flesh from the side of his wrist, up the back of his forearm to above his elbow. It was bleeding heavily. 

 

The class had congregated in a rough ring around him, Draco and Buckbeak. Several girls and Neville were crying and Lavender Brown seemed to be swooning on Seamus Finnegan. “Get out, Malfoy!” Ron jeered, and Draco skulked off to join Crabbe and Goyle at the back of the crowd.  Hagrid hustled over from where he’d retied the rest of the herd to the fence post. 

 

“Harry! Yeh’re alrigh’? Beaky nicked yer…. Yer just hang on there, we’ll getcher up to the hospital wing—” He lifted Harry in his arms as if he were a ragdoll and ran up the grass towards the castle. He struggled not to pass out with every jounce and bounce of his lumbering gait, trying instead to focus on applying pressure to his arm. 

 

Madam Pomfrey looked shocked and resigned, in that order, when Hagrid puffed in with him. 

 

“Set him down there, Hagrid. Merlin knows this boy can get injured with a teaspoon if given half a chance…” Hagrid deposited Harry on one of the beds as the matron hurried off. 

 

“Harry, wha’… wha’ happened? I know Buckbeack wouldna attacked yeh, not in a hunred years!” 

 

“He didn’t,” Harry reassured the distraught gameskeeper. “He was going for Draco Malfoy. He’d provoked him. I just got in the way. It wasn’t Buckbeak’s fault, Hagrid.” 

 

“Tha’ Malfoy…” Hagrid growled into his beard, and might have gone on if not for the return of Madam Pomfrey. She had a large green ceramic pot in her hands. 

 

“Alright,” she snapped. “Given who brought you in, some nasty animal did this to you, so we’ll have to wash it.” She drew her wand from one of the many pockets on her apron and waved it at him imperiously. His torn and bloody left sleeve parted company from the rest of his robes and gently pulled itself off his arm. All the little threads and bits of fabric that had been caught in the wound pulling themselves free was not a pleasant experience by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, it hurt a lot and he broke out sweating with the exertion of not screaming, and keeping conscious. He was not going to faint twice in forty-eight hours. He just wasn’t. 

 

Madam Pomfrey gently sponged the wound with warm water, then took a cotton dab and dipped it in the jar. It emerged laden with slimy green-ish goop. “This will sting,” she told him grimly, and he grit his teeth. She smoothed the jagged skin and began applying the gel in liberal quantities. True to her word, an awful burning sensation invaded his arm. But it quickly turned into a pleasantly numb non-sensation, and he took a comfortable breath for the first time since knocking Draco down. 

 

“No heavy lifting with this arm for the next six hours,” she ordered, wrapping his arm in tight white bandages. “It will scar quite badly if you’re not very careful. In fact, stay here for an hour so I can examine it again. Take a bed.” 

 

“But I have class—” 

 

“You have to _heal_ ,” she snapped, and went off to the other end of the ward to put her things away. 

 

“D’yeh—d’yeh mind if I go on back ter the herd, Harry?” Hagrid asked. He had stood by the whole time Madam Pomfrey had been treating him, and he was twisting his hat between anxious hands. 

 

“That’s fine, Hagrid. It wasn’t your fault, or Buckbeak’s. Go see if he’s alright.”

 

“Thanks, Harry. Yeh get well now, y’hear?” 

 

“Yes, Professor,” he said, and Hagrid grinned. After Hagrid had lumbered out, Harry took a bed near the door and settled in. To be honest, it was nice to just lie down. The advent of fifth year had been even more dramatic than past years, and he was sorely tired. He drowsed around the edge of sleep for a while, trying to feel guilty about missing Ancient Runes and not quite succeeding. Madam Pomfrey checked his pulse a time or two and took his temperature, but generally left him alone, and he was closer to sleep than wakefulness when the noisy, agitated crowd barged in. Harry jerked upright. Tom led the charge, looking livid. Behind him came most of the Care of Magical Creatures class, and many of Harry’s dorm-mates and friends, including Tracey, Delf, and Kelly, both of whom took seats at the side of his bed. 

 

“WHY AM I ALWAYS THE LAST ONE TO KNOW ABOUT YOU!?!” Tom demanded angrily. 

 

“Know what?”Harry asked, confused beyond measure.

 

“That you’re a Parselmouth!” 

 

Harry felt his mouth fall open. “ _What?_ ” 

 

“Told you he didn’t know,” Lawrence muttered to Will and Andrew. 

 

“I mean, I understand trying to not upset Mum and Dad. But as your _brother_ , aren’t I entitled to know everything about you?” 

 

Ron snorted. 

 

“Wait, back up: what do you mean, you’re the last to know?” 

 

“I’m getting to that,” Tom said impatiently. “At dinner just now, Lavender and Parvati and Fay were going on about how you’re such a _perfect hero_ ,” he sneered the words, “so just to set the record straight, I told them about you speaking Parseltongue, because only villains speak Parseltongue, but then _Ron_ ,” he glared at his friend as if he had suffered the greatest of betrayals at his hands, “told me that he talked to the twins after the Chamber of Secrets last year, and they told _him_ that everyone has known about it since your first year because you _talk in your sleep!_ What do you have to say for yourself?” 

 

Harry gaped wordlessly. “How in Merlin’s name was I to know everyone knew if I was talking in my sleep?” he asked incredulously. “And why aren’t I a social pariah?” The second was more a general plea to the congregation, some of whom shrugged. 

 

“Well, you were a bit too cool, is the thing,” Will explained. “Especially with the Quidditch and Professor Black being your godfather. If you talk to snakes in your sleep, that’s none of our business.” 

 

“Except it got _all over school,_ ” Harry said angrily. 

 

“That’s about average for this place,” Tracey said dryly. 

 

“Why did no one ever bring this up to me?” he exclaimed. “A simple—” 

 

“Well, we weren’t sure you even _knew_ , Harry.We didn’t want to _upset_ —” Kelly explained, but he wasn’t putting up with that right now.

 

“Stop interrupting me all the time!” he snapped, and her mouth closed with an audible click of her teeth. He was about to go on interrogating his brother (and everyone else), but Roderick chose that moment to arrive, dragging his brother along by the ear. The crowd around his bed made a path for the two Malfoys and Roderick presented Draco with a very pleased look. Draco looked like he wanted to die. 

 

“Well, go ahead,” Roderick prompted. 

 

Draco stared at the floor in sullen mutiny. 

 

Roderick sighed. “ _It’s perfectly easy to explain,_ ” he said in a tone suggesting he was reciting something. “ _It would be abominable to think that I actually_ like _that_ —”

 

“Thank you, Potter,” Draco spat quickly, shooting a desperate look up at Roderick. Delf giggled. 

 

“You’re welcome,” Harry returned. “Next time, don’t be a blithering moron and insult a Hippogriff.” 

 

He nodded wrathfully, and then Roderick patted him on the shoulder. “There we go. Was that so bad? Toddle off now and do your homework like a good little boy.” 

 

Despite the bad judgment, bad attitude, and all around arseholery Draco had shown that afternoon, Harry had to feel bad for him as the Gryffindors heckled him out of the ward. It would take a lot to heal the blow his pride had sustained that day. Most of Tom’s year left a short while later, including Tom himself, who gave Harry an inscrutable glance over his shoulder as he left. Lavender and her friend Parvati stayed behind, and Lavender murmured “That—that was really amazing, what you did, Harry, especially since it was only Malfoy. Are you… you’re not in too much pain?” 

 

“No,” he reassured her, smiling. “Madam Pomfrey works wonders. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.” 

 

She blushed and stammered, “That—that’s good. Um, see you later then.” And she and Parvati rushed out, whispering to each other. 

 

“What are you doing about homework?” Will asked. “We’ve got rotten Potions to do, you know.” 

 

“I do. Madam Pomfrey will probably let me out tonight. If not, well, Potions isn’t till Wednesday.” 

 

All of a sudden, Kelly stood up.  “Harry, I want to say something.”

 

“Uh. Okay, go for—” 

 

“I’m _so_ sorry I offended you earlier.”

 

“I wasn’t offended, I just—” 

 

“And I want to make it up to you. Would you meet me in Hogsmeade when we go next month?” 

 

Although a little taken aback, he agreed. He felt bad about shouting at her, and if she thought meeting in Hogsmeade would make him forget his supposed anger, there was no harm in that. 

 

Madam Pomfrey reexamined his arm a little later, and deemed him ready to leave, and he managed to stuff down some dinner with Delf and Roderick before it disappeared. The next three days managed to pass without mishap, somehow, despite what felt like every single person in the castle coming up and asking to see his arm and for a retelling of the event itself. He quickly started refusing to do the latter, but he didn’t mind rolling his sleeve up to reveal the long, slim, shiny scar which was all that was left of the dramatic wound. 

 

But then Friday arrived. Harry had been looking forward to Friday because it was his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson with Remus. Harry, Roderick and Delf had taken seats at the front of the class and thumbed through their books, trying to imagine what the first lesson would be like. They had the class with Gryffindor, and everyone was buzzing excitedly because they had heard that the third and fourth years had gotten to face a Boggart. 

 

Then Remus came down from the apartment behind the classroom and they all went still and attentive. “Good afternoon, class,” he said, smiling around. “Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. As you are no doubt aware, this is the year you will sit your O.W.L.s, so it is the goal of this class to get you to a point where you will be comfortable and confident of passing. We are to be focusing mainly on emotional aspects of magic for this term, a topic much more serious and rigorous than it probably sounds.” He looked among them all, and they all looked back at him. “However, since it’s the first day of our class, we’re not going to buckle down just yet. If you’ll please follow me, and bring only your wands…” 

 

The class eagerly trooped after him, and no one was surprised when they found their way to the teacher’s lounge. Professors McGonagall and Burbage looked up and nodded before turning back to their work. 

 

“Now, who can tell me what a Boggart looks like?” Remus said. The dresser in the corner rocked on its legs, as if its occupant knew it was being talked about. A few people raised their hands, and he called on Roderick. 

 

“No one can tell you what a Boggart really looks like,” he said matter-of-factly. “They’re shape-shifters. They take the form of whatever will most scare the person closest to them.” 

 

“Very good. Five points to Ravenclaw. Now, the counter-charm against a Boggart is quite simple. Repeat after me—no wands just yet, Miss Middlebrow. So, _riddikulus.”_

 

“ _Riddikulus,”_ the class repeated as one. 

 

“Good. Now, as with many forms of advanced magic, the spell alone will not be enough. While speaking, you must visualize something that you find funny, and that will be what the Boggart becomes. However, what truly gets a Boggart, is laughter. So once again, _riddikulus._ ”

 

“ _Riddikulus!”_

 

“Excellent. Now, who wants to go first?” 

 

There was much jostling and pushing as places were taken in line (most trying to get towards the back and some brave few jockeying to be at the very front). Harry, Delf and Roderick wound up near the middle right behind Will and in front of the twins and Lee Jordan. 

 

Greer Strong, the Gryffindor Prefect, wound up at the front of the line, and the class watched with nervous excitement as Remus waved his wand at the wardrobe, and the door swung open. A moment later, a large brown and white dog stepped out of the dresser. Its fur was mangy and clotted with dirt, its expression was feral and snarly, and there was blood dripping out of its jaws. Greer leveled her wand and cried “ _Riddikulus_!” There was a crack and the dog became a little dancing monkey in a vest, and the class burst out cheering. 

 

“Next!” Remus called, and Amado Firth stepped up bravely. There was another crack and the Boggart was in the form of a wrinkly old woman with three teeth and no hair. “ _FREAK!”_ she screamed. “ _Demon-spawn!_ ” Amado raised his wand. “ _Riddikulus_!” A crack and the woman was dressed up in a tiger onesie. The class cracked up, and the Boggart looked around in confusion. 

 

“Next!” Remus called, laughing himself. Lark Foley went, then Beverley, and Madison Bennet, and Donald Pinkerton, and Helen, and then Kelly. Her Boggart was an ugly old woman too, but all she did was glare and mutter resentfully “Enjoy it while it lasts, little girl. You’ll wind up alone.” Kelly looked furious and screamed “ _RIDDIKULUS_!” with such force that several people covered their ears. A crack and the Boggart was a writhing tentacle. An uneasy chuckle went through the class, and then Will stepped forward. A crack, and the Boggart was a man with green hair and white paint on his face. He wore a purple suit and was grinning manically. “ _Riddikulus!”_ Will cried and the man became a little puppy with its ear turned inside out. A round of ‘aaw’s made its way through, and then Roderick stepped up. Crack! The Boggart was a man again, a tall blond man with grey eyes and curled lip. It was Roderick, only older, and he looked the spitting image of his father. Oh dear. Roderick stared at himself with his chin up and his face set as his older self slowly rolled his sleeve up, his left sleeve, to reveal a Dark Mark. “You’ll grow out of this silly rebellious phase you’re in,” he sneered. 

 

“ _Riddikulus,_ ” Roderick said quietly, and the Boggart became Dwight Greengrass, hanging upside down in thin air like he had been at Harry’s most recent birthday. 

 

“Well done,” Remus said. “Next!” 

 

Delf stepped up, and the Boggart looked at her with her brother’s eyes. Crack! It crumpled to the ground. A pitiful moan came from the body, and it slowly rolled over, and Harry, with a severe jolt, realized he was looking at himself. Only he was bloody and broken and mangled, nearly dead. Boggart-Harry raised a shaking finger to point directly at Delf. “Your… fault… This is all your fault!” 

 

Harry waited for Delf to do something, to make the awful vision go away, but she stood frozen as the moments ticked by and no one moved. After a time, Harry saw that Delf’s shoulders were trembling, and her wand was shaking badly. 

 

“Hey!” he shouted, stepping in front of her. Crack! A tall hooded figure stood before them, and he felt lightheaded and nauseous and _cold_ , he couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything, couldn’t protect Delf… 

 

But then Remus was in the way, and another _crack_ had the Boggart in the shape of a shining milky orb. The moon, of course. Harry’s head cleared quickly, and he watched with relief as Remus shouted “ _Riddikulus!”_ and the Boggart became a skittering cockroach. “Haha!” he cried, and the cockroach exploded, bursting into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone. 

 

A cheer went up from the class, though those behind Harry grumbled that they wanted a chance to face it too. 

 

“I’d say that’s enough of a lesson for the first day, particularly since it was a practical. Let’s see, five points to everyone who faced it, including Daphne and Harry. Now, I want you to read up on emotional magic and write eight inches for next week. Class dismissed! Off you go, enjoy the fine afternoon. Don’t forget to collect your things from the classroom!” 

 

Chattering and shouting and laughing, the rest of the students left. Harry shot Delf and Roderick a look saying he’d be right behind them. They nodded, indicating they’d see him at dinner. He waited while Remus collected some few things off his desk and followed him out into the hallway. 

 

“I’m sorry about that, Harry. I’m sure it was embarrassing for me to do that.” 

 

“A little, yes,” Harry agreed. “It’s alright though. I feel worse for Delf, really. But why did you do it in the first place?” 

 

“Well, to be frank, between your family’s history and a tall, cloaked figure appearing as your Boggart, I made the assumption that it would become Lord Voldemort. Yesterday, your brother was prevented from facing it by Miss Moon having a panic attack, but I would have gotten in his way too. I didn’t think the Dark Lord at his full power would be the perfect thing to bring into the classroom. I hope you’ll forgive me.” 

 

“I suppose that makes sense for Tom,” Harry replied, as they arrived at the empty Defense classroom. “But for me… it was going to be a Dementor.” 

 

“Ahh…I ought to have expected something like that from you. I’ve often observed in you the tendency to behave quite fearlessly—often rashly—when something you care about is at risk. And perhaps you don’t even need to care for them if recent rumors are to be believed.” He looked pointedly at Harry’s arm. “I think the Dementor represents your fear of fear itself. The fear of loss, perhaps. After all, you did grow up in the midst of your parents’ fears of one of Voldemort’s followers seeking vengeance on Tom. It would make sense for that sort of thing to be engrained in you.” 

 

“I suppose,” Harry agreed uncomfortably. He wasn’t used to being so thoroughly scrutinized. “But really, the one I met on the train was just plain scary.” 

 

Remus smiled a quiet, understanding smile. “I can imagine. Now, how does supper sound?” 

 

They went down to the Great Hall together, where Remus went up to the teacher’s table and Harry went to find Delf and Roderick. True to their unspoken word, they had saved a place for him, and he helped himself to corned beef and beans. 

 

“So what did you talk about?” Delf asked. 

 

“Why he didn’t let me face the Boggart. He said he thought it would turn into Voldemort, for me and Tom both.” 

 

Delf snorted. “He doesn’t know you very well.” 

 

“Yeah, he admitted that. When I told him it would have been a Dementor, he started in about how that means I fear loss, or fear the fear of loss… I got a bit lost actually.” 

 

Roderick chuckled. “So that’s why you have to be the hero all the time. You fear fear.”

 

“Har har. Pass the orange juice.” 

 

And nothing more was said about anyone’s Boggart. 

 

The following Friday, Harry got a letter from his parents. It arrived at breakfast, as was typical of the post, and he fed their family owl, Godric Merlin Dumbledore, some scrambled eggs as he ripped the envelope open. (Tom had been in a bit of a hero-worship phase six years back, after old Nice Owl Potter got struck by lightning. “Nice Owl” had been Harry’s suggestion at age two and a half.)

 

“Who’s that from?” Delf asked, not looking up from her Arithmancy book. 

 

“A secret admirer?” Roderick half-jokily guessed. Delf smacked him. 

 

“My parents,” he corrected distractedly. … _look forward to hearing from you… first week of fifth year… like you classes?… are your friends?... Love, Mum and Dad_

 

“Oh,” said Delf, suddenly sounding sour. “They’ve finally started to notice you, have they? As if they deserve forgiveness… If my parents ever treated me the way yours do you, I would make them pay dearly. I say you make them feel as bad as possible for as long as you can.” 

 

“In case we wanted to know Delf was really vindictive…” Roderick murmured. “Actually, if my family did what his is doing now, I’d do my best to forget the past. I wish my parents would just accept me the way I am.” 

 

“...Hmph.”

 

Harry looked up from the letter. “Was something important about my life just decided without me being included?” 

 

“Yes, and Roderick won,” Delf grumbled. 

 

“Oh, okay. If either of you feel like filling me in on whatever it was, I’d really like that.” 

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Roderick said grimly. 

 

Harry wrote his first letter that night, with the intention of taking it to the Owlry the next afternoon. They spent the morning laboring over Ancient Runes translations and Charms work. Lunch was a welcome respite, and they went down with several others from their year who had been working with them in the Library. 

 

“Say, weren’t Quidditch tryouts today?” Will asked as they passed the big notice board beside the front doors. 

 

“Yes,” said Harry. “But the oldest ones on our team right now are Abigail and Chaz, so we’re okay for this year.” 

 

“But don’t you go to other teams’ tryouts?” Lawrence inquired. “To examine the opposition?”

 

“Chet and Chaz volunteered,” Roderick explained. “I think it was Gryffindor or Hufflepuff this morning. Merlin knows how they have time. It’s only the second week and I’m going mad with homework.” 

 

They had taken seats at Ravenclaw table by then, and were about to tuck in to roasted lamb and potatoes when the doors to the Entry Hall burst open and several enthusiastic Gryffindors rushed in. In front was Tom, and he was screaming and shaking his Firebolt over his head. 

 

“Three guesses for what just happened,” Roderick said, grinning. 

 

“Hmmm…” Harry bent an exaggeratedly serious eye on the younger students. “I’ll take a stab and say Hermione just made the Quidditch team.” Everyone in earshot burst out laughing.

 

“You’ll be facing your brother next time we play Gryffindor.” Lawrence sounded excited by the prospect. “That’ll be fun.”

 

“I hope he doesn’t expect me to go easy on him,” was all he said. 

 

-o-

 

That evening, Potter Manor received a pair of letters: 

 

_Mum and Dad,_

 

“Lily, it’s Harry’s letter!”

 

_Madam Pomfrey took care of my arm, so I’m fine._

 

“Wait, what happened to his arm?” Lily sounded alarmed. 

 

_Moony’s a really good Defense teacher. We’re doing a section on emotional magic right now._

 

_Harry_

 

“I’ve never read a shorter letter in my life,” Lily sighed. 

 

“At least he sent it though…”

 

“Let’s just read Tom’s. He’ll tell us more.”

 

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I have never been happier in my life. I finally made it on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as Seeker!_

 

“YES!!” James leapt to his feet. “Both of my boys are Seekers!” 

 

“Is that really a good thing? The boys will be more competitive between each other now.”

 

“But Lily: Quidditch!”

 

_Now that stupid Draco Malfoy can’t lord it over me that he’s on his team and I’m not._

 

“Malfoys…” James sounded disgusted.

 

“James….” Lily warned.

 

_Speaking of Malfoy, he nearly got his arm ripped off by a Hippogriff the other week during Care of Magical Creatures. I say ‘nearly’ because Harry happened to be there and he’s the one who got hurt instead._

 

“So that’s what he was talking about! Wait, how does something like that even happen?”

 

_Everyone was completely panicked,_

 

“Well, I should hope so!”

 

_and Malfoy seemed almost angry he hadn’t been hurt. I guess now he owes Harry a debt of gratitude and can’t be quite as snarky as usual._

 

James snorted derisively. 

 

_People think it’s really ironic that Malfoy and I hate each other, but our brothers are best friends. Frankly, I just think it’s weird they’re friendly at all, let alone best mates._

 

“He gets this from you, James, and I’m not happy about it. I’m glad Harry inherited my blood-blindness.”

 

“Yes, but look what that got you with Snape…”

 

“That’s not the point,” Lily said sniffily.

 

  _But besides Malfoy being nearly mauled, my extra classes are an utter failure. Professor Trelawney who teaches Divination said I’m going to die._

 

“Oh dear!”

 

_Harry says she picks someone from every class to tell that to (he knows because in his class it was him),_

 

“Harry never mentioned that to us!”

 

“Harry never mentioned anything to us until we made him.”

 

“True...”

 

_but she sounded awfully convincing. I’m just going to have to watch my step. Anyway, school is basically going fine._

 

“That does NOT sound basically fine!”

 

 _Love, Tom_. 

  



	17. Casanova

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's going up so late, it's been a long week.

_Casanova_

 

Something incredible happened over the next six weeks: nothing. Glorious, blissful, boring _nothing_. By some miracle, Tom stayed out of trouble, which meant that nine tenths of everything that made Harry want to tear his hair out was absent. He was able to focus on school-work, and Quidditch practice, and getting the hang of being a Prefect, and spending time with Katie, all of which were very time-consuming. The only lacewing in the ointment was that his parents wrote to tell him and Tom that Pettigrew had been seen several times in Godric's Hollow lurking around the destroyed cottage. They'd posted Aurors and nearly caught him the last time and he hadn't been back since. But other than that, things were going incredibly well. It was some time before he even noticed how quiet it was, and Roderick told him to watch out when he brought it up, since noticing the lack or drama was the surest trigger to start it. Harry went about knocking on wooden doorframes and tables for the rest of the day.

 

So there he was, in a secret passage with Katie the afternoon before the first Hogsmeade visit. They’d met up perhaps a six or eight times since the start of term, and Harry enjoyed it more and more each time. He hadn’t wanted to admit it after they’d broken up last year when his feelings for Katie were still so confused and strong, but their relationship had been a big stressor in his life, and overall he preferred their new arrangements much better.

 

“I agreed to meet Delf and Roderick before dinner, so I need to go soon,” he told her between kisses.

 

“Oh, that’s too bad,” she replied distractedly, and over the next several minutes, he completely failed to make good on his pronouncement.

 

When they broke apart again, he whispered “I really should go.”

 

“I fully disagree,” she countered.

 

A few more minutes passed and no action was taken.

 

“Okay really,” Harry finally laughed.

 

Katie grinned. “Alright, alright. See you… hm, how about after dinner on Monday in the fourth floor broom closet?”

 

“Perfect. Don’t stand me up again.”

 

“It was _not_ my fault that Professor Binns kept us so long!” she protested.

 

“Always an excuse, eh?”

 

“Oh, shut up.”

 

One last kiss, and she went one way and he the other, off to Ravenclaw Tower to find Roderick and Delf and go to dinner. The winter had come over Hogwarts early and sudden, and the castle had been buried in snow after a night and a day of very intense storming. That had been four weeks ago, and the school had settled into a quiet, snowy winter routine (except when the twins sometimes had broomstick races up and down the passageways, to Filch’s apoplectic fury).

 

The Ravenclaw common room was full of quiet studying sounds. It was the day before the Hogsmeade visit, so third years and up were trying to get ahead on their homework so they could stay out all day. Roderick was slouched in a squishy armchair just next to Rowena Ravenclaw’s statue, reading a book and idly twirling a quill around his ear.

 

“What’s that?” Harry asked, taking the seat across from his friend’s.

 

“Muggle Studies,” Roderick replied without looking up. “Is it supper yet? I’m famished.”

 

“Nearly. Where’s Delf?”

 

“Dunno. She left half an hour ago, being extremely vague about the wheres or whys of her expedition.” He put his book down. “All very suspicious if you ask me.”

 

“Well, I happen to have just the thing to find her. Come put your books away and we’ll go to the Great Hall when we’ve got her.”

 

They went up to their dorm room, greeting Andrew and Will, who were coming down, and fumbled around in Harry’s trunk till they got the secret latch to click and the secret compartment was revealed. Harry pulled his Marauder’s Map out and gave it a tap. “I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good.” Neat little diagrams of the Hogwarts halls unfolded before them, and they began and methodical search for the little Delf dot. When the Library and some of her and Tracey’s favorite nooks yielded no results, they began to scan the broom closets and lesser-used secret passages on the likely chance she had snuck off with Oliver.

 

True to their suspicions, the fifth-floor broom closet in the east wing yielded results, and the two of them set off through the castle to collect their friend and go to dinner.

 

“Hmm…” Roderick sighed loudly once they had reached the hall in question. “I wonder where our dear friend Daphne could be? What do you think, Harry old chap?”

 

“I haven’t the foggiest,” Harry replied, also just a few degrees too loud. They strolled down the corridor together, hands in pockets as if they simply happened to be ambling along that particular corridor at that particular time. “I remember she told us we would meet up before supper, and she’s usually so good about keeping her word. I just hope nothing happened to her.”

 

A bump and a muffled curse echoed from the broom closet about ten paces in front of them. It sounded like someone had stepped in a bucket.

 

“Oh dear,” Roderick said mildly. “I do hope that’s not Peeves getting up to trouble. Shall we root him out?”

 

“With pleasure,” Harry agreed, and they marched towards the door, which Roderick yanked open.

 

Oliver was the one who had stepped in a bucket, as it turned out, and had fallen over as a result. He started up angrily at the two younger students. Delf was upright, and froze in the act of fixing her hair when she saw them.

 

“Why, hello!” Roderick exclaimed, feigning amazement. “We heard a noise and assumed it was Peeves getting up to something. What a pleasant surprise to find you instead!”

 

“Sure, a real surprise,” Oliver muttered, picking himself up and shaking the pail off his foot.

 

“Delf,” Roderick said disappointedly. “We agreed that we would meet up for supper this evening since we won’t be together in Hogsmeade tomorrow. Did you forget, or were you trying to hurt our feelings?”

 

This wasn’t the first time Harry and Roderick had interrupted Delf and Oliver. Four times, counting the current, they had played at innocence upon ‘accidentally discovering’ them in some hidden cranny or hidey hole. Roderick usually did the talking. The first time they’d found them (which actually had been on accident), Harry had shouted “ _HEY!”_ and then stomped off for fear of repeating the scene from Delf’s birthday. Fighting at the Greengrass’ was one thing, but at Hogwarts it would earn him a detention.

 

“I didn’t forget,” Delf muttered, angry and embarrassed as she stepped out of the closet.

 

“So you were trying to hurt our feelings,” Roderick sighed sadly. “I ought to have known.”

 

“I was just about to leave!” Delf protested angrily.

 

“Yes, the unbreakable Ravenclaw trio,” Oliver grumbled, wiping a cobweb off his robes. “Never mind that other people may want to spend time with you _separately_.”

 

“That’s what tomorrow’s for,” Delf told him, flicking her hair back.

 

“You should wear your hair up tomorrow,” Oliver said, taking a lock and twirling it around his fingers. “It would look better that way.” Harry glared at him. Boyfriend he may be, but style dictator he absolutely was not.

 

“It’s too cold,” she said, brushing his hand away. “See you later.” And they went down to the Great Hall together and ate dinner and didn’t talk about the next day.

 

But the next day happened weather they talked about it or not. The snow was back, and they bundled up in as many layers as they possibly could before heading down to the main gates. Harry had nearly forgotten they had Dementors guarding the school, but they had certainly not gone away. Meditation training did next to nothing in mitigating their effect on him, so in the end he just had to duck his head and hurry until he was out of their presence. He wasn’t going to the town with Delf and Roderick like they usually did. Delf was waiting for Oliver in the Entry Hall and Roderick had gone to the Hospital Wing for some Pepperup Potion before meeting Tracey, as he had developed a cold overnight. Harry hoped that the day would finally push those two beyond the boundary of ‘friends’, but Roderick was so silly about some things…

 

All in all, it meant that he had nearly an hour to make use of before meeting Kelly. She had slid him a note at breakfast (along with an obvious wink), saying they should meet up at Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop at quarter to twelve. It was eleven now, however, and he did not have his two best friends to spend the interim with. Looking for a place to get out of the wind, and deciding going to the Three Broomsticks alone would look pathetic and lonely, he stepped into Honeydukes. Hogwarts students packed the aisles, all of them with friends at their sides and laughter on their lips and it made him feel melancholy and bare to be without Delf and Roderick. To distract himself, he focused on the sweets. It seemed that every time he visited, there were new varieties of candies to drool over. On a whim, he decided it would be nice to bring Kelly something when he met her, and he spent a good thirty minutes wandering among the shelves, pondering what in the world she would like. He decided against the heart-shaped bonbons that sang verses of love songs when you bit them, since they weren’t going on a formal date and he didn’t want to make her think they were. But on the other hand, simple dark chocolate seemed too morose, the Gummy Worms were particularly wriggly that day, and none of the special interest candy really seemed like her thing.

 

In the end he just got a little box of treacle, supposing that if she didn’t like them, well… they were _his_ favorite.

 

He rounded a shelf to get to the register, realizing he was nearly late, only to run right into Lavender Brown and some of her friends. There was a flurry as bags and gloves and people went tumbling to the floor. Lavender was a good deal shorter than him, so he managed to keep his feet despite the force of their collision. She had three friends with her, Parvati and a girl who could only be her twin, and a girl with fluffy blonde hair and glasses whom he thought he recognized as Fay Dunbar. She’d been one of the ones crying when Buckbeak ‘nicked’ him. His arm still prickled at the memory.

 

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, bending down to help Lavender regain her feet. “I didn’t see you there. Are you alright?”

 

“Oh—um—yes! Quite alright, thank you—that is, are you? Alright?” Her face was pink, though whether with embarrassment or the cold outside, he couldn’t tell.

 

“Sure, fine,” he replied genially, hoping to assuage her discomfort, if that’s what it was. “This is your first Hogsmeade visit, isn’t it? How do you like it so far?”

 

“It’s wonderful,” she said, as her face went pinker still. Parvati and her sister giggled to Fay a little distance off. “Are you here shopping for someone, or…?”

 

“Sort of.” He lifted the little box of treacle. “This is for someone, but if she doesn’t like it or want it, it’s mine.”

 

“I see. Is it your favorite? Out of everything in the whole shop?”

 

Puzzled by the specificity, he answered. “I prefer treacle in tarts, but yes, in the shop this would be it.”

 

“Harry?” A querulous voice invaded. Tom rounded the corner of a nearby aisle, flanked by  Ron and Hermione, both of whom looked a bit irritable. Harry was sure he would be a great deal more irritable if Tom went along his normal course of things here. “Harry, what are you doing here?”

 

Harry stared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m buying candy. In a candy shop. Have you hit your head lately?”

 

Tom scowled at him. “The first Hogsmeade visit of the school year is special for third years,” he said self-importantly. “You shouldn’t be distracting Lavender during time she could be having experiences with—her peers.” His face went a bit pink and understanding washed through Harry. A little crush, eh? Well, he wasn’t mean enough to make fun of his brother for that… in public, anyway.

 

So he just said, “You know, that’s not a bad point. So, listen, I’m sorry I banged into you and knocked you over and everything, but I’m kind of running behind. Have a good day, alright?”

 

“Ok… bye, Harry,” she said, waving a little wave as he strode past to the counter. He gave Tom a knowing look as well, which caused a stronger blush. As he left, he saw Lavender whispering fervently to her friends while Tom lurked nearby, clearly too shy to say anything while Ron and Hermione wandered off and examined some novelty candy. Hoping the situation resolved itself, he hurried out the front door, tucking his cloak in against the wind and snow, and made his way towards the tea shop a few streets over.

 

The little space was crammed with tiny round tables and students occupying them, mostly in couples. Harry glanced around to see if Kelly was there yet, trying to hide his disdain. Madam Puddifoots was a joke among his friends, libeled as the lovey-dovey datey place to be avoided at all costs.

 

Kelly wasn’t there yet, so he waved to the hostess, indicating he was taking an empty table along the side wall. He sat facing the door, tapping his fingernails on the polished wood and quashing impatience. He had agreed to meet Kelly in order to make up for snapping at her in the Hospital Wing at the beginning of term, which he did feel quite bad about, but he hadn’t meant to volunteer the whole day to sitting alone in a silly tea shop.

 

But before even two minutes could pass, in she breezed, hair elegantly brushed back and cloak flapping grandly. Harry, who had a hard time keeping his hair going in the same direction, let alone looking decent, had to be impressed.

 

 _“_ _Sorry_ I’m late,” she said cheerily, taking the seat across from him. “Donald _Pinkerton_ just tried to chat me up outside of The Three Broomsticks. _You_ know him: he’s a Prefect, like _us_.”

 

“Sure, Donald gets good marks in—”

 

“He’s _nice_ and everything, but honestly, as if a _Muggle-born_ had a chance with _me_. You know?”

 

Harry blinked, resisting the urge to get up and leave. “No, I don’t real—”

 

“ _Anyway_ , I asked you to meet me here because I’m so _terribly_ sorry about offending you last month.”

 

“I wasn’t offended; there was just a lot hap—”

 

“But I want to make it _up_ to you, Harry.” Harry decided he wasn’t going to try to talk anymore. She was obviously more than capable of carrying the conversation on her own. “Isn’t there _anything_ I could do for you?” She was sort of leaning forward and pressing her elbows together so that her ample breasts were in danger of escaping her sweater. Harry struggled to keep his gaze from landing on them as he spoke.

 

“I really wasn’t offended. You don’t have to do anything for me.” He was mildly amazed she had allowed him to complete a sentence, let alone two.

 

She stared at him stonily for a few seconds, and then leaned back in her chair and said something completely unexpected: “I heard you and Katie _Bell_ are back together. I thought she broke your _heart_. You told your _dad_ you broke up when we were on the _train_ , remember? I would _never_ forgive someone who did that to _me_.”

 

Despite her gaze making him distinctly uncomfortable, he did his best to reply truthfully. “We’re not actually, um, back together or anything, just, um… snogging. I don’t actually want to, um, date anyone this year.”

 

Her expression relaxed into something like coyness, only sharper. “Well, _that_ makes sense. I always though dating at Hogwarts would be _utterly_ disgusting. Especially since we’re all so _close_ here, you know? I don’t think you can _know_ someone too well if you want to date them. I mean, could you imagine dating your _best friend?_ _”_ She giggled as if that was the silliest thing in the world while Harry’s nether regions stirred uneasily. He could imagine that, all too well. “ _Dating_ can come later when there’s a _bigger_ pool to fish from. Leave _school_ for fooling around, don’t you think?”

 

He shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t see what’s wrong with dating at—”

 

“So what I’m saying is that we shouldn’t _date_ , because that gets messy and complicated, but, I mean… _you’re_ attractive. _I’m_ attractive. That seems pretty simply to me.”

 

“You want… to do the same thing Katie and I are,” he ascertained dubiously.

 

“ _Exactly._ ”

 

He took a pause. On the one hand, she was incredibly pretty. On the other hand, he was quickly learning that he couldn’t stand her. But really, how much did they have to talk if all they were going to do was snog? And maybe snogging someone new would help him get his mind off Delf?

 

“Sure, alright,” he said. “Do you want to meet later back at the—”

 

But, true to form, she didn’t let him finish the thought. Instead she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in to a hungry kiss. Entirely too shocked to react properly, he sought for something useful in his repertoire of tips and received knowledge from Sirius or Lindsey or even just his own experience. He came up blank, which was both unusual and unnerving. Everything he knew was about _getting_ girls, not having them throw themselves at him. All around them, whispers erupted at other tables as neighboring couples turned to each other in shock and glee. Naturally, the rumours would be all over school by the evening’s feast, and for once he wasn’t completely comfortable with that idea.

 

She pulled away after several long moments, a satisfied smile playing across her lips. Fortunately, Harry was spared the impossibility of responding by the flustered hostess who came to take their order. Harry ordered two of the special, Kelly asked for lemon in hers. Harry remembered he’d brought her treacle, which she happily accepted, thought Harry thought he saw a flicker of distaste cross her face.

 

Their tea came quite soon, and Kelly chatted easily for nigh on forty-five minutes, requiring no prompting whatsoever from her conversation ‘partner’. Most of her prattle concerned her dorm-mates, Beverly, Helen, Amanda, and Delf, whom she called ‘dear little Daphne’, which put a bad taste in Harry’s mouth. Most of it was gossip he was already vaguely aware of, but she seemed to know every in and out of every personal relationship going on in the castle, and the history which made each one particularly scandalous. Harry’s brain felt like stew by the time he thought to ‘suddenly remember’ he had agreed to meet someone at the Three Broomsticks ten minutes ago. He had agreed to help a lowerclassman with some personal troubles, apparently, in his capacity as Prefect. Or something. She got that stony look again as he paid hurriedly and left her outside, feeling bad about being so relieved. Maybe there was something he could do to make her hate him…

 

He hoped someone would be at the Three Broomsticks when he got there. With Delf on a date and Roderick a pseudo-date, there was no guarantee, so his pace was slow once he was out of sight of the tea shop. The snow was still coming down in thick flurries, so he ducked his head, tucked his hands in his pockets, and wondered what exactly had just happened. Obviously the entire school would know he was snogging her within the day, but what bothered him more than that was her comment about dating best friends. He had hoped that snogging Katie (and now Kelly) would help get Delf out of his head, but the dreams had not abated. He had tried to peg his infatuation, if that was the right word, on a newly broken heart and those lingerie Tracey had gotten her in August, but that wasn’t working either. Additional to that problem was the fact that she was dating Oliver, whom he did not trust, which meant he had to pay close attention to make sure he was treating her with the proper respect.

 

The Three Broomsticks distracted him from this useless spiral, and he smiled with relief when he saw who was occupying one of the large corner booths, crammed cheek to jowl around the table: Roderick and Tracey, Will and Lawrence, Amanda and Helen, Fred and George, Angelina and Alicia, and Lee Jordan and Katie.

 

“Room for one more?” he asked cheerfully, and they all exclaimed happily that of course there was, sit, talk, have Butterbeer! He did all of those things eagerly. Katie gave up her seat for him, but then sat on his lap and kissed his ear, which made him grin.

 

“Where’ve you been?” Lawrence inquired, taking a swallow from his tankard.

 

“With Kelly at Madam Puddifoot’s.”

 

Lawrence coughed up his Butterbeer while most of the others made noises of surprise or derision.

 

“Madam Puddifoot’s?”

 

“With _Kelly_?”

 

“ _Why?”_

 

“Yeah, why?”

 

“Remember when the Hippogriff got me last month and I went to the Hospital Wing? And you lot were explaining how everyone knew I was a Parseltongue since first year—which I _still_ don’t understand, by the way—and she kept interrupting?”

 

“She does do that,” Amanda agreed. Helen nodded support.

 

“Apparently she thought I was upset with her when I told her to stop, and asked me out to make it up.”

 

“You need to watch out for her, mate,” Alicia told him. “Not a keeper, her.”

 

“What do you mean?” Roderick asked. Harry noticed he and Tracey were sitting quite close together (even closer than was necessary), and made up his mind to ask about their status later on.

 

“Well, you know she did a gobby on Todoric Gamp at the end of last year,” Amanda said nonchalantly.

 

 _“_ _WHAT?”_ Harry was not alone in his ignorance of that little fact. Most of the males at the table seemed to have been in the dark, in fact.

 

“ _Todoric Gamp?_ ” George said incredulously.

 

“The Slytherin one?” Lee Jordan sounded like he wanted someone to pinch him.

 

“There’s not another,” Angelina pointed out.

 

“Gross,” was Fred’s input.

 

“I know,” said Katie, they eye-roll evident in her tone. “His face alone would be prohibitive, besides that he’s a rotten git.”

 

“Were they together?” Harry asked. Somehow in her vast recitation of who had dated who, Kelly had left out her own history.

 

“Harry, you’re adorable,” Tracey said kindly. The girls giggled while the boys looked around in confusion.

 

The conversation became more general after that. The upcoming Ravenclaw/Gryffindor Quidditch game was much talked over, especially the fact that Harry would be playing opposite his brother for the first time. He found he was actually quite excited for the event. It would be a test of the speed of Tom’s Firebolt matched against Harry’s skill. Midday leaked into afternoon, until it was suddenly quite late, and they all headed up to the castle for the feast.

 

The Great Hall was noisy and lit by a thousand floating pumpkins with candles inside. A live colony of bats flittered up around the stormy ceiling, and many orange streamers swam between and around the arches like lazy snakes of flame. Most of the school had gotten there before their group, so they quickly dispersed to their tables and took seats. Harry and Roderick found Delf, sitting in a little clear space between some second years and some sixth and seventh years. She looked bored until he sat down next to her and Roderick across from them, when she smiled happily and corrected her dejected slouch. Apparently the date with Oliver had not been a success. The meal appeared mere moments later and they dug in with gusto. Lunch had been lackluster because the feast required so much preparation, and the cold turkey sandwiches had not tided him over very well. The Halloween feast more than made up for it though. They all piled their plates high with all manner of foodstuffs, and ate until they could eat no more.

 

When they finally slowed down, just before dessert appeared, they took the chance to talk properly for the first time that day. They spoke mostly of Hogsmeade, avoiding the topic of school work like the plague. As fifth years, homework was never-ending and inevitable, and they spent well more than enough time on it outside of mealtime discussions.

 

“So Harry,” Roderick eventually said, munching on peach crumble. “What’s with the girls lately? Half the school thinks you’re back in love with Katie, but today you went out with Kelly. What’s the story?”

 

“Yes, explain yourself,” Delf agreed softly. Harry craned around to glimpse her eyes, but she turned away to reach for the milk jug.

 

“You keep forgetting you have a cheat-sheet on her feelings,” Roderick said around a mouthful crumble, tapping his arm with his fork. That’s right! She did blood magic in their murders specifically for that reason. Harry snuck his sleeve up to his elbow and examined the three crows: one of green, one of grey, and one didn’t seem to have eyes at all.

 

“Delf, your eyes have disappeared.”

 

“Don’t talk nonsense,” she snapped, but still wouldn’t look at him.

 

“So? Girls?” Roderick prompted.

 

“Well… there’s not much to say. I’m just snogging them.”

 

 _“_ _Them.”_ The way Delf said it made it neither question nor statement.

 

“Well, you know Katie caught me on the train. That’s not news. But just today, I went to that…” He looked around surreptitiously to make sure Kelly wasn’t sitting near them. “…that stupid tea shop, Madam Puddifoot’s, with Kelly Middlebrow, and we have the same arrangement now.”

 

“ _Kelly.”_

 

“Do you feel alright? You don’t usually like repeating things.”

 

“No, I don’t feel alright. I think I may have a hallucinatory fever.” Harry couldn’t tell if she was joking, and that more than anything told him it was time to change the subject.

 

“So you went with Tracey,” he said to Roderick. “How was that?”

 

Roderick groaned piteously and dropped his head in his hands. “I don’t know. I think good. I really like her, but I only asked her to Hogsmeade as a friend. It sort of turned into a date… thing. I was just so nervous the whole time. I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Well, why don’t you just let things happen naturally?” Delf said reasonably. She seemed to have recovered from her funk of redundancy. “She’s bound to see how you feel sooner or later.”

 

“That’s what you’re hoping for, is it?” Harry took a bite of pie and watched Delf blush. “Dear, if I followed your example, she’d be snogging half the boys in school by next week.”

 

Harry swallowed his pie. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

 

“I was counting on that,” Roderick told him solemnly. Harry looked at him quizzically until his friend grinned and took a sip of pumpkin juice.

 

After dinner, the ghosts did a presentation of synchronized flying, to general acclaim, and Nearly-Headless Nick, the friendly Gryffindor ghost, did a rousing rendition of his own beheading. The school was cheerful and chattering as everyone went off to bed. Delf, Harry and Roderick were near the back of the crowd of Ravenclaws and most of the students made it to their dorms before they even got to the common room. Just as they were mounting the stairs, he heard a shout from the other side of the room: “Harry!”

 

He turned to find Abigail Wastress waving to him. “What does she want?” Roderick wondered.

 

“I dunno. I’ll be up soon,” Harry said, making his way between the stragglers to get to his Quidditch Captain. “Alright, Abigail?”

 

“Alright,” she replied succinctly, and got right to business. “As you know, our first Quidditch game is coming up quickly. You haven’t complained in training, but I want to know: is your arm bothering you? If it is, I can get Madam Hooch to reschedule us to play later in the season.”

 

“Oh!” said Harry, thinking ‘is that all?’. “It’s really fine, I promise.” He pulled up his jumper sleeve to show the scar, though he knew she’d seen it before. “It didn’t even hurt after the first night. Have I not been doing well in practice?” he asked, suddenly anxious.

 

She looked startled. “No, no, of course you’re fine! I just know you’re the sort who wouldn’t complain if something bothered you, especially in front of other people.”

 

Harry was about to reply, but the arrival of Professor Flitwick prevented him. He jerked the door to the common room open and stumbled in, disheveled and out of breath. Harry and Abigail stared at their diminutive Head of House in confusion until he noticed them and squeaked “Potter! Wastress! Everyone must return to the Great Hall this very instant! Please rouse your friends at once!” Harry and Abigail looked at each other in astonishment. “Come come, quickly!”

 

He drew his wand and waved it in two sharp flicks and fourteen little golden birds appeared and flew to each dormitory door and passed through with a shimmer of golden light. “They’re telling your classmates to come to the Great Hall. Potter, you’re a Prefect: please direct them!” And he dashed back out, the door thudding shut on a thick silence. Harry and Abigail scarce had time to draw breath before students began streaming out of their rooms and a confused and worried babble filled the common room. Before they could become a panicked stampede, Harry stepped forward and shouted, “Everyone, we don’t know what’s going on right now, but something quite important must have happened since we’re being evacuated from the dormitories.” Everyone was silent and listening, leaning over the banisters to hear him. A hot little rush of power went through him, but he stifled it and went on speaking. “You all heard Professor Flitwick: we need to go to the Great Hall immediately. Jean, Herbert, please take charge of the first years. Kelly, you and I are with the second years. Kenneth, the third years are yours. Penelope, as Head Girl you’ll surely be wanted by the professors. Stay at the back and make sure no one falls behind. Everyone else, please keep to your year group, and all of us need to stay together!”

 

The murmurs returned, but they were calmer and more organized. He saw everyone was in a state of restrained distress, but stable, so he looked around for his friends. Roderick was coming down with the other boys, while Delf had rushed ahead and was stuck amongst some third years. He heard his fellow Prefects calling for their groups and swirls and whorls of students formed on the floor of the common room. Delf got to him first of his friends, but he had no time to explain and no information to impart anyway, so he sent her off to Roderick. Kelly joined him a minute later, clad in a satin pink nightie that had been a shirt in its past life, her hair a tumble of honey blonde curls. “Harry, you sounded so _commanding_ just now,” she said, batting her eyelashes and swishing her hips.

 

“Sure,” he said distractedly. “Which are the second years again?”

 

The trek down through the castle was a nervous, quiet thing done with bare feet and unwashed teeth. The Great Hall was a relief when they came to it. The whole of Gryffindor House was clumped awkwardly in the middle of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Tables and the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins seemed to have arrived just before them. The latter two were garbed as the Ravenclaws, in incomplete nightwear, while the Gryffindors were still in their day clothes, some complete with cloak and gloves from Hogsmeade earlier, like Harry himself. Freed of his duties as guide, he went looking for Delf and Roderick, who had already made their way to the crowd of Gryffindors, many of the same ones they had enjoyed Butterbeer with just recently. He came up just as Katie was saying “…I mean, _shredded_ her canvas! Peeves says he got angry when she kept asking for the password and slashed her with a knife.” Angelina and Alicia, standing next to her, shook their heads sadly.

 

“What’s this?” Harry asked.

 

“Peter Pettigrew broke into the castle,” Roderick told him solemnly.

 

Cold terror sank through him. “I have to find my brother,” he said, and walked away into the crowd.

 

“He’s fine, Harry, he walked down with us!” Katie called, but Harry went anyway. It went without saying that Tom would be Pettigrew’s target. Regardless of anything Voldemort and Quirrel might have told him in third year, the world still regarded Tom as The Boy Who Lived. Peter wouldn’t know better than to target him.

 

He found him with Ron and Hermione, near the back of the Hall. Tom saw him immediately and rushed over.

 

“You know why this is significant, don’t you Harry?” he whispered urgently.

 

“Wait, what? What’s significant?”

 

“It’s _Halloween._ The anniversary of when You-Know-Who tried to kill me. Do you think that could possibly be a coincidence?”

 

“Okay, you’re clearly fine. Goodnight.”

 

“Hey!” his brother shouted as Harry made his way back towards his friends.

 

Just then, Dumbledore called over the assembled studentry: “The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle.” Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were closing all the doors that led out of the Hall. “I’m afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the Prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the Hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately,” he added to Percy and Penelope. Percy looked immensely self-important while Penelope nodded seriously. “Send word with one of the ghosts.” He turned to leave, but stopped at the threshold. “Oh, yes, you’ll be needing…” He waved his wand once, and the long House tables fled to the sides of the Hall and leaned themselves against the wall. He gestured with it once more and the floor was covered with squashy purple sleeping bags. “Sleep well,” he said, and left.

 

Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick had paused to confer with Penelope and Percy, and Harry and many of the other Prefects gravitated in that direction for instructions. Kelly appeared at his side out of nowhere and linked her arm through his.

 

“…least three here at all times so they can relay information to us,” McGonagall was saying as Harry came up.

 

“Miss _Middlebrow!_ ” Professor Flitwick tittered, interrupting his colleague. Everyone turned to stare at her, and, by extension, Harry. “Your nightclothes are very… cold-looking!” The surrounding students giggled at his hurried correction. The correct adjective was ‘skimpy’.

 

Professor McGonagall frowned. “Miss Middlebrow, your garments are completely inappropriate. Allow me.” She drew her wand, even as Kelly protested, and gave it a gentle flick. At once, Kelly’s slinky pink scrap of a nightgown was transfigured in the frumpiest, dowdiest, most _grandmotherly_ fleece nighty Harry had ever seen in his life. It went from her throat to her toes, the sleeves nearly hanging past her hands. Kelly shrieked and released him at once while everyone who could see burst out laughing. With perhaps the tiniest smirk, Professor McGonagall swept out, Professor Flitwick hurrying in her wake, chortling and trying to hide it.

 

Kelly caused quite the scene about her change of wardrobe, and it was some time before Percy got everyone calm enough to set the rotation of watches. Cassius, Valerie, Kay, Kenneth, Graham and Jenny pulled first. Harry had drawn second, with Judy Wu, Ellen McCumber, Greer Strong, Tracey, and Cedric. They hunkered down in a corner with Delf and Roderick, and the twins and Lee Jordan pulled their sleeping bags up to them too just as Percy shouted for quiet and lights out. But despite his best efforts, the Hall was full of a susurrus, students whispering and murmuring theories and rumors and facts and stories. Tom was probably in his element.

 

Harry managed to snatch a few restless hours of sleep before Kenneth shook him awake, and he took up patrol duty with his equally sleepy friends. Little and less happened during their allotted hours, and he sent regular messages through the ghosts, telling the teachers so. And he was not at all surprised the next day when no sight of Pettigrew had been found.

 

The next day, Potter Manor received two letters.

 

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

 

_I’m fine. Read Tom’s letter for all necessary details, except everything he says about me isn’t true._

 

“What’s that meant to mean?”

 

_Harry_

 

“Wait, that’s it?” Lily snatched the page and flipped it over and over, as if that would produce more words.

 

“Let’s just read Tom’s…”

 

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

 

_Peter broke into the castle last night and nearly tore up the Fat Lady!_

 

“He got as far as the Fat Lady?! Dumbledore didn’t tell us that!”

 

“I’m amazed he was able to sneak in to the castle at all. And the Dementors were just as useful as I thought they would be….”

 

_The whole school slept in the Great Hall, but frankly, I don’t think we were much safer there than in our dorms, no matter how many teachers and Prefects were patrolling._

 

“Harry was patrolling around with Peter on the loose?” Lily sounded horrified.

 

_I wonder if I left Hogwarts if everyone would be safe. Maybe I should be homeschooled? I would miss my friends though…_

 

“Tom, you can’t hear this, but let me just say: I will never homeschool anyone.”

 

_But now for the Harry’s Love Life Report:_

 

“What’s this?”

 

Lily blushes guiltily.

 

_as far as I can tell, he’s still snogging Katie,_

 

“Wait, are they back together?”

 

“Oh, did I not tell you that?”

 

“No!”

 

“They’re not _together_ together though, just snogging.”

 

“You say that like it’s something to be proud of.”

 

“Well, isn’t it?”

 

_but I noticed last night that he and the other Ravenclaw Prefect in his year, Kelly Something, disappeared for an hour or two._

 

“I refuse to have a casanova for a son. I just refuse. And you can wipe that proud smirk off your face, James, don’t think I can’t see it.”

 

_I don’t know if that means something or nothing, but I’ll keep an eye open._

 

_Love, Tom_


	18. Wood Unworthy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's a day late, I had a very bad migraine yesterday. I truth be told I needed up sleep all day.

The castle buzzed like a hornet’s nest in the days following Pettigrew’s botched attack on Gryffindor Tower. Rumors swirled that he had Apparated into the school—which was rubbish—or that he had snuck in—which was a deal more reasonable. In fact, Harry had strong doubts that the Dementors were stopping to interrogate each and every rat that went in and out of the school’s boundaries. But since the appropriate authorities knew about that (Lily had had the Marauders sans Remus register their Animagi forms shortly after Voldemort’s attack), he kept his doubts to himself.

 

But soon enough those concerns faded to the background, as the Quidditch season was fast-approaching. Only a few weeks after Halloween, the first game was set between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.

 

The morning of the match dawned angry and overcast. The early cold front had retreated, and the snow had turned to rain. Harry kept his run short and brisk that morning, took a hot shower, and meditated for a good long time before anyone else got up. He went down to breakfast with Roderick and Delf when they appeared. They ate quietly, speaking only ask for the bacon or milk to be passed. Harry and Roderick weren’t particularly looking forward to flying about in the driving rain for however long the game lasted. The rest of the Great Hall was rowdy and excited, however, enthusiasm not the least dampened by the weather. Harry was staring absently into space when he felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to find Tom behind him. He held a soggy bit of parchment in his hand and had Godric Merlin Dumbledore on his shoulder. He also looked remarkably green.

 

“Mum and Dad are coming,” he said. “They wrote. Wanted me to tell you.”

 

“Oh,” said Harry. “Nice of them to write ahead this time. That it?”

 

“Um… actually… if I could talk to you… alone…” His voice was soft enough that Harry had to strain to hear it.

 

He grabbed an apple and stood up. “Alright.” The brothers left the Hall together, and Tom led Harry into a dim alcove off the deserted Entry Hall.

 

“Harry, I think I’m sick,” the younger Potter said quietly. “Really sick.”

 

“How so?” He took a bite of the apple.

 

“I just… don’t feel good. My stomach… I haven’t been able to eat for days… I can’t play today, I can’t even fly. I’ll fall for sure.”

 

Harry swallowed apple mush. “You’re nervous, that’s all. Pre-game jitters. Take a few deep breaths, eat something light, you’ll be right as rain.” He glanced at a window. “Sort of. You won’t fall off your broomstick, at any rate.”

 

“Harry, you don’t understand: _I’m going to die._ ” His words were half gasp and half plea.

 

“Tom, I played my first game too once, remember? You think I wasn’t nervous? Now, it’s a shame about the weather, and that you’ll be facing me. But in the scheme of things, it’s only a Quidditch game. Keep your goggles on, do your best, and it’ll be fine. Alright?” He held out his apple. “Here. Eat this, at least.”

 

Tom looked at the half-eaten fruit distastefully. “No, thanks.”

  
“Then take these.” He pulled a couple Chocolate Frogs out of a pocket and handed them over. “Maybe you’ll get one of your own cards.”

 

There was about an hour and a half before the game started, so Harry went back to the Tower with Delf and Roderick. They tried to study, but with everyone coming up and patting Harry and Roderick on the back and wishing them luck, that soon proved pointless. They eventually decided to go down to the changing room to get away from everyone. Delf agreed to meet them after the game, and they set off through the rain to the Quidditch pitch. The grass squished noisily under their feet and mud had them slipping around several times, and Harry gave silent thanks that theirs was an air-borne game. Or rain-borne, in this case?

 

The curtain of blue and bronze canvas was a welcome sight, and Roderick pushed it open ahead of Harry, hurrying to get his broomstick out of the weather. But before Harry could follow him in, he made a startled sound and backed up quickly, nearly sending Harry sprawling in the mud.

 

“What was that?” he demanded, regaining his balance by using his broom as a crutch. Then he saw Roderick’s furious red blush and took a different tone. “What is it?”

 

“It’s, er. We should just, ah… wait out here… for a bit. Nothing to, uh, worry about.” Roderick’s Malfoy-pale skin made his blush extremely apparent, despite his efforts to compose his expression.

 

“What’s gotten into you? It’s practically dumping the ocean on us out here! Let’s go in!”

 

“No!” Roderick’s voice was so desperate and shrill that Harry actually stopped. But before he could demand a proper explanation, the canvas curtain twitched aside and Abigail’s head popped out. Her colour was nearly as high as Roderick’s, and her dark blonde hair was tousled and untidy, a notable departure from her usual neat pony-tail.

 

“Um, sorry about that. You can come in if you, um, you want to, you know, get out of the rain.”

 

Harry swiftly did just that while Roderick followed more slowly. Chaz, one of their Beaters, stood facing his locker, fiddling with the strap on his goggles. He didn’t look up to greet them, but Harry noted a suspicious bruise purpling on the side of this neck and suddenly started to understand Roderick’s reaction.

 

Instead of breaking the awkward silence, Harry set about painstakingly polishing and trimming up his Nimbus 2000, and was still engaged in that activity when Chet and Cho arrived, sopping wet and panting. They had probably run down from the castle.

 

“Oh, drat,” Cho said when she saw Roderick and Harry were already there. “Roger stayed to wait for you. Hopefully he’ll think to check your dorm before too long…”

 

“Roger’s smart,” Roderick replied blithely. “And even if he thinks we’ve forgotten, he won’t be late.”

 

The tension dissipated with the arrival of the two, and there was banter and joking, and soon the thunder of hundreds of feet pounding up into the high bleachers. Amongst those feet would be Delf’s, he knew, and his parents were mixed up somewhere in there as well. Without meaning to, he remembered the last game they had attended, but quickly pressed it back down. This was different. They knew he was playing this time. They had come to see their sons play Quidditch against each other, not make sure one of them kept himself out of trouble while the other won the game.

 

Roger arrived just minutes before the game started and was briefly cross with Harry and Roderick before Abigail gave her short pep-talk and they headed out into the driving rain. Harry had to stifle a grin when he saw Tom across the mid-pitch line, looking like he thought being dead was a viable alternative to his current situation. Abigail and Oliver shook hands, and Madam Hooch’s whistle rang out shrill amid the rolling thunder. Harry kicked off and quickly assumed his usual counter-clockwise loop far above the game.

 

There was quickly a problem. Harry had known Tom was insecure about his first match. But honestly, it was a bit much for him to follow just a meter behind Harry, matching him speed for speed and everything.

 

“Tom!” he shouted over the howling wind. “TOM!” He slowed just enough to fly abreast of his brother. “You’re supposed to be looking for the Snitch, not following me!”

 

“But you’ll see it first!” Tom bellowed back.

 

Harry nearly laughed. Below them, Cho scored on Oliver and the Ravenclaws cheered. “Maybe not! Besides, tailing me looks bad. Nothing’s going to happen soon with this weather, trust me.”

 

Tom didn’t reply, so Harry soared off to the other end of the pitch and resumed his circuit. Ravenclaw scored again, then Gryffindor got three in a row, then Ravenclaw got one, but Madam Hooch called a haversacking foul on Roger and Gryffindor got a penalty. Abigail saved it, but it put the team off its stride and Gryffindor got another four goals right away.

 

Seventy to thirty was not a score Harry cared for, so he redoubled his efforts to find the Snitch. Each team scored once more before the tiny glint of gold finally caught his eye. It was lurking over by the Gryffindor goal hoops. Taking care to look nonchalant, he barely sped up as he rounded the corner, but when he was just a few meters away, the Snitch seemed to sense him coming and zoomed off. Cursing under his breath, he followed, weaving between other players and the spectator towers. Tom noticed and Harry heard him shouting. It sounded like he was telling either his brother or the Snitch to slow down, but that was hardly about to happen. Worsening matters was the fact that the temperature seemed to have dropped several degrees in a matter of moments, and the soaking rain was now closer to sleet. Harry cursed again and hunched lower over his broom. The Snitch flitted to and fro, but Harry was gaining, it was just out of his reach…

 

But all of a sudden his gorge rose in his throat, and Tom made a horrible croaking noise behind him and he knew it wasn’t a natural cold that had hit them just before: it was Dementors. He whipped his head around, trying to see where they were. The Snitch swerved in and upwards, spiraling higher and higher over the pitch and Harry followed doggedly. The aching cold and lightheadedness were becoming worse the further he went, but he nearly had the Snitch, he nearly had it…

 

Something dark swept across the sky and Harry’s vision went dim and shivery. He fought to focus, the Snitch still dancing just beyond the tips of his outreached fingers. Another dark figure sailed past him, and his insides went numb. From far away, a high, cruel voice shouted “ _Move aside!”_ Something tickled his fingers, and he grabbed wildly as he felt himself slip away from his broomstick, from the rain, from the sudden searing pain in his little crooked scar…

 

“ _No, not the boys!” his grandmother pleaded._

“ _Adveda kadevra!”_

_A rumpling thump._

_Then something he hadn’t heard before: a young child, a boy piped up, “You can’t have my brother, baddie!” It was Harry, at age 3._

“ _How touching. A little warrior child,” said the silken voice. “I’ll just have to kill the older brother first. Avada kadevra!”_

_A flash of green swallowed him like a yawn._

 

-o-

 

A complete thought ran across the blank surface of his mind as soon as he was conscious: _I_ am _the Boy Who Lived._

 

His next thought was, _But I don’t want to be The Boy Who Lived._

 

The next, _I’m hungry_.

 

One of those must have provoked some accidental noise on his part, because a woman’s voice said “He’s awake.” There was a sudden murmur of voices and someone touched his shoulder.

 

“Harry?” It was Delf, sounding unusually tentative.

 

“Mmmmuh.”

 

“Speak clearly if you’re awake,” she said snippily. Ok, back to normal.

 

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” His mum’s voice.

 

He coughed to clear his throat, then grumbled out, “What happened?” At this point it felt appropriate to look at what was going on. His eyelids felt sticky and numbish, and his vision was blurry for a moment, but the scene soon resolved itself into one of uncomfortable familiarity. He was in the Hospital Wing—again—and there was a crowd of people around his bed, starting with his parents, Delf and Roderick, and most of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Quidditch teams. He tipped his head and saw Tom in the bed next to his, sitting up and spooning warm custard into his mouth. Ron and Hermione were in chairs on the far side of his bed. He had a red welt above his left eye and wouldn’t meet Harry’s gaze, but otherwise looked fine.

 

“You both fainted,” Fred said matter-of-factly.

 

“The Dementors came,” George corroborated.

 

“But you still won!” Chet added excitedly, and Harry grinned. Oliver snorted and crossed his arms. “You just _snatched_ it, right as you fell, and—”

 

“Basically,” Delf cut in, “you’re in the Hospital Wing _again_ , because you fell off your broomstick _again_ , and nearly scared me to death _again_. You need to stop doing that.”

 

“Sorry,” Harry replied. Her eyes were that rare inexplicable pitch black. “It wasn’t quite my fault though. Aren’t the Dementors forbidden from entering school grounds?”

 

“Yes,” James said darkly. “I’ll be having words with Fudge about this, trust me.”

 

“Dumbledore’s telling them off right now,” Roderick elaborated. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so furious, even after the Forest incident.”

 

Harry grinned a bit at the twins’ protests while Lily and James exchanged confused glances. But then he noticed something strange: Tom’s Firebolt leaned against the end of its owner’s bed, but Harry’s Nimbus was absent.

 

“Where’s my broom?” he asked, more curious than anything.

 

His teammates exchanged glances, and Abigail stepped out from behind Chaz and Roger. In her arms was a short tube of burlap with some splinters poking out of each end. Harry’s heart sank.

 

“We’re really sorry, Harry,” she said quietly, laying it at the foot of his bed. “We were so concerned about you that it didn’t occur to us to look until just a little while ago. Your broomstick, it hit the Whomping Willow, and with Willow, um… whomped it.” She folded the burlap back to reveal a small pile of shattered wood. The longest splinter read ‘imbus 2’ along the side, but besides that, there was only a tangle of bristle-sticks, which had been so perfectly groomed only that morning.

 

“We’re really sorry, mate,” Roderick told him awkwardly.

 

“Well…” He fought for something positive to say, to put a good face on. “Figures it was my broom and not Tom’s, doesn’t it?”

 

“’Ey!” Tom protested, slightly hampered by his mouthful of custard. “Mine went in the Lake! It’s lucky the squid didn’t eat it or something!”

 

“No,” said Roderick wryly. “It just handed it out to Madam Hooch when she asked nicely.” Tom flushed sullenly.

 

Madam Pomfrey bustled up before anyone could say aught else, and ushered most of the crowd out of the Hospital Wing. Delf, Roderick, Ron, Hermione and their parents were allowed to stay, but Harry swiftly grew tired again and fell asleep in the midst of the uncomfortable small talk being exchanged.

 

-o-

 

When he woke again, he was alone with Tom, who was sitting up in his bed staring into blue nothing.

 

“How long was I asleep?” he asked, propping himself up on an elbow and reaching for the water pitcher and a cup.

 

Tom started violently. “ _Merlin_ , Harry!” He settled his glasses back in place. “Nearly on forty minutes, I think. Mum and Dad went to talk to Dumbledore, and the others left a little after that when Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t led your girl friend wake you back up.”

 

“She’s not—”

 

“No, I mean girl–friend, not girlfriend. Calm down.”

 

They sat in silence for a short while as Harry sipped his water.

 

“Harry, when we… when we fell, did you hear anything?”

 

Harry glanced at him sharply, but Tom’s eyes were fixed on his knotted fingers. _That_ was something he hadn’t considered. Had Tom heard the same thing as Harry? Or just part of it? Being the Boy Who Lived was the cornerstone of his identity. Having that stripped away would be like… no, he didn’t have anything comparable. Perhaps if he rolled being the Seeker, a Ravenclaw, and a Potter all together, that would be similar. Harry was accustomed to being nothing more than himself, but Tom’s world was built around having a larger public character. It shored him up and gave him strength and surety. What would it do to him to lose it?

 

“Like what?” he hedged carefully.

 

“Oh, um, you know…” Tom’s hazel eyes darted to and fro like nervous birds. The poor boy was a horrible liar. “Nothing really. Maybe voices. Maybe just, um. Nothing.”

 

So he’d definitely heard something. But if he hadn’t heard the entire thing, like the piece Harry had heard on the train, there was no need to enlighten him about the rest. The best thing would be to play innocent. “No, I didn’t hear anything,” he replied smoothly. “Finally cracked under the pressure of playing a far superior Seeker, did you?”

 

“No!” Tom exclaimed hotly, his previous anxiety evaporating. “It was the damned Dementors, Harry, they’re pulling up old—that is… I’m not crazy, alright? Shut up.”

 

Harry grinned to himself, happy to have averted Tom’s identity crisis. Madam Pomfrey discharged them both a quarter of an hour later and they were in time for dinner. Harry was not looking forward to what the rumor mill would cook up about their repeat double-swoon, but he was more anxious about the conversation he was going to have to have with Delf and Roderick. The things he had heard were too big and too important to keep from his best friends.

 

They met up in the common room at midnight. It was nearly deserted, and silent as Ms. Pince could have wished for. A small group of fourth years hunched over some books by the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, and two seventh years dozed by the fire under the boy’s dorms, so Harry, Delf and Roderick took the alcove under the girls’ ones.

 

“So?” said Roderick as soon as they were settled. “You’ve looked a bit wild about the edges all afternoon.”

 

“You saw how far he fell,” Delf snapped. She was nestled close next to him on the sofa, while Roderick took the armchair at a right angle to them. “I’m wondering why he doesn’t look worse.”

 

“Thank you for the backhanded concern,” Harry said dryly. “But I actually feel fine.”

 

“Then what’s the cloak and daggers business?” Roderick asked. “It’s always ‘meet me at the place at midnight’ with us these days.” He made his voice low and gravelly, and Harry chuckled.

 

“What I have to tell you is going to sound a little mental,” he warned.

 

“Harry, two years ago, you said You Know Who said you were meant to be the Boy Who Lived. Nothing will top that,” Delf said flatly.

 

That brought him up short. “That’s right, I did say that. Well, it’s true, what he told me. I know it always seemed to make sense, and I did believe it in an emotional way, but now I know it for certain.”

 

Delf went tense as a startled cat and Roderick was struck mute, an unusual state for him.

 

“I told you I had hoped he was just trying to put me off, but, um. He wasn’t. I heard things—I _hear_ things when I get too close to Dementors. On the train, I heard You Know Who kill Grandma Potter.”

 

Roderick’s mouth fell open, and he felt Delf’s fingers tighten on his arm.

 

“Just today, when I fell off my broom, I heard right after that, and I, um… tried to stop him from getting to Tom.”

 

Roderick did something part groan, part sigh and part laugh. “You would, wouldn’t you…”

 

“Wait, you were… what, three and a half?” Delf protested. “How could you have done anything?”

 

“I quote: ‘ _You can’t have my brother, baddie!’_ And then he said I was a little child warrior and he would just have to kill me first.”

 

They shared a silence born of immediate shock and slow horror.

 

“Don’t you dare say that so casually,” Delf said in a low voice. “You’ve nearly died enough that you should at least take it seriously.”

 

“Maybe so,” Harry agreed. “But this was a dozen years ago, and I didn’t even remember it till now. I still don’t, really. I just know it must have happened. And Tom knows at least part of it. He may as well have asked ‘are you the Boy Who Lived now?’ back in the Hospital Wing. I told him I didn’t hear anything though. Can you imagine what he’d do without that part of himself?” He shook his head.

 

“Die,” Delf said promptly.

 

Roderick laughed. “Well,” he said, slapping one of the arms of his chair. “Our friendship has finally paid off. Now I can stop pretending to like you two and go tell Father everything you’ve just said.”

 

Harry stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing, and Roderick joined in a moment later. “I don’t know where you got this knack of breaking tension, but please keep it.”

 

The conversation took a less world-shaking turn after that, and they unanimously agreed that broadcasting Harry’s revelation would be one of the two stupidest things he’d ever done. (Delf said the first stupidest thing was take up flying, while Roderick claimed it was getting involved with Kelly.)

 

He was so concerned with his reclaimed piece of personal history that almost a month passed before he circled back to a more immediate problem: he couldn’t keep fainting every time he got within spitting space of a Dementor. The problem boggled him for a solid day before he remembered something Master Jerome had told them a summer or two ago: something called the Patronus Charm.

 

So that Friday after Defense, Harry stayed behind as the rest of the class filed out.

 

“Hello, Harry,” Remus said when everyone else was gone. “What can I do for you?”

 

“Do you know the Patronus Charm?”

 

Remus looked startled. “I do. I’m a little surprised you do, however.”

 

“I only know _of_ it. I want to learn it, properly. I can’t keep passing out whenever I’m near a Dementor. I expect Tom would like to learn this too, but I haven’t talked to him about it.”

 

“The Patronus is a very advanced magic, Harry,” Remus said doubtfully. “It’s usually not even on the N.E.W.T. curriculum.”

 

“I still want to try. I can’t go falling off my broomstick again, and I don’t want to stay trapped in the school until Pettigrew’s caught. Would you at least try to teach us?”

 

“Certainly.” He gave a gentle smile. “I only wanted you to know what you were getting into. To be honest, I had thought of bringing it up to you two, but you’ve beaten me to it. Let’s say we’ll start lessons after Christmas holiday, alright?”

 

“Perfect. Thank you. I’ll tell Tom tonight at supper.”

 

“You do that. Have a good weekend.”

 

“Thanks, _professor_.” He grinned at Remus, who rolled his eyes and waved him out. There was over half an hour till supper started, so he hurried back to Ravenclaw Tower, thinking if there was any homework he and Delf and Roderick could accomplish before the meal.

 

But any idea of studying flew right out of his head when he (finally) riddled his way past the eagle knocker. As soon as the door was open, a pair of female voices assaulted him with such volume that he nearly dropped his books to cover his ears.

 

He edged into the room, hoping to sidle up the stairs to his dorm without drawing the ire of whoever was arguing. But once he was properly into the room, he realized why that wouldn’t be possible: the two opponents were Delf and Kelly.

 

“…if you knew a damn thing about what it means to be attractive! ‘Here! Look at my breasts! Aren’t they amazing?’ Ugly slag!” That was Delf. The two of them were by the girls’ stairs, fists clenched, color high. Several other Ravenclaw students were scattered around the common room, casting each other shocked and uncomfortable glances. All of this Harry saw in the split second before Kelly started shouting back.

 

“Oh, I think I know a _good_ deal more than you when it comes to getting boys. Do you _really_ think that friendship ever leads to _love_? You’ve read too many bad _novels_. You’re like a little pet, _Delf._ ”

 

“You—” Delf hissed, but just then Kelly happened to glance towards Harry and unceremoniously cut her off.

 

“ _Ha–_ rryyyy!” she cooed, and sashayed across the floor to where he stood. Delf’s head had jerked around at Kelly’s exclamation, and he saw with some alarm that her eyes were burning orange, hot enough to spit sparks, brighter than a Weasley’s hair. But as Kelly came up behind him and slid her arms around his chest and pressed her aforementioned breasts up against his back, Delf’s eyes faded from orange to black in less time than it takes to take a breath.

 

“What’s going on?” he asked, making a move to disentangle himself.

 

Kelly tightened her grip on him and murmured in his ear, “We just had a little misunderstanding. Nothing to worry about, wouldn’t you say, Daphne?”

 

There was something in Kelly’s tone that made the hair on his neck stand up, but Delf made no indication of disagreement. Instead, she sneered at the both of them and stalked past to the door.

 

“Where are you going?” Harry asked, concerned.

 

“To find Tracey,” she snarled, and slammed the door.

 

“I _really_ don’t know what got into her,” Kelly said after a moment, sighing heavily. “Some people are just _dramatic_ , I suppose.”

 

Harry didn’t see Delf again that day, and when she appeared the next morning at breakfast she made no mention of her previous temper. Taking her lead, Harry didn’t bring it up either, and he believed it largely due to that that the next few days passed so quietly.

 

The lull maintained itself for a whole ten days actually. And for once, it wasn’t Tom who broke it (in fact, the younger Potter was being remarkably quiet. Harry couldn’t help but think he was trying to avoid attention for fear of it somehow bringing out what he’d heard from the Dementors. He even went so far as to thank Harry politely for setting up their lessons with Remus).

 

This new trouble started quite quietly. It was a dim snowy Sunday early in December, and Harry and Roderick were on their way back to the castle after Quidditch practice. Harry hadn’t been able to do anything, obviously, but he’d gone down anyway because not doing so would have felt far too weird. They didn’t have another game till after the holiday, so it wasn’t a major problem for Harry to be missing his broom. And Abigail trusted his skills enough to let him miss participating in a few practices.

 

They bid their teammates farewell as the others went up the marble stairs to dry off and change before supper and last-second homework. Harry and Roderick would do that too, of course. But Delf always met them in the Great Hall after practice, so they went to find her first.

 

But she wasn’t there. She always perched at the very end of one of the Ravenclaw benches, usually with a book and look of focused boredom. Her absence was passing strange.

 

“She been eaten by Fang,” Roderick said gravely.

 

“Pfft. She probably got bored. We did get out late. Let’s go up to the common room.”

 

“Right-o. I’m freezing, personally.”

 

They trekked up through the castle, getting mildly lost at one point because a staircase shifted while they were on it. But when they finally got there, the common room yielded no results either.

 

Harry frowned at the lack of Delf. “Could she be in the Library?” he wondered aloud.

 

“I suppose,” Roderick replied dubiously. “But somehow I don’t think so. Do you know what I think?”

 

“No. Tell me.”

 

“You have a certain piece of parchment upstairs that will answer this question for us.”

 

Harry chortled. “You’re perfectly correct. Come on.”

 

Andrew was the only one in their dormitory, and he was asleep. They crept about as quietly as possible, Roderick putting his broom and warm things away while Harry dug the Marauder’s Map out of the secret compartment in the bottom of his trunk. “I solemnly swear I’m up to no good,” he murmured, and the careful diagrams unfurled across the pages. “Not in the Library after all,” he reported. “Or in her dorm, or in any of her and Tracey’s usual spots…”

 

“Wait, there she is,” Roderick said, pointing. “Just on the second storey. We went right past that room coming up here.”

 

“With stupid Oliver, of course…” Harry grumbled. The two little dots were suspiciously close together.

 

“There’s only one thing to do about that, I’d say.” Roderick drew out his wand. “Mischief managed.” Hogwarts disappeared from the Map, and Harry tucked it into his pocket.

 

The castle was cool and quiet. It was Sunday afternoon, so most everyone was tucked away with the weekend’s homework. Snow had been falling gently for the past few hours, adding to little puffs on window sills and drifts outside. They retraced their steps back down to the second floor and made their way towards the room the Map had marked. As they turned the corner, Harry heard the sound of muffled voices, shouting. He and Roderick frowned at each other and hurried forward.

 

“…ice-queen with everyone who’s not Harry!” a male voice shouted. Oliver.

 

Delf’s response was indistinct, but it sounded angry and defensive.

 

“Oh, as if!” Oliver exploded. “Are you a little girl? There’s nothing wrong with a little fun.”

 

The door of the classroom they were in made no noise as it swung open. By the time it crashed against the far wall, Harry was halfway across the room, making a bee-line for Oliver. Later on, he didn’t quite remember putting his hands around Oliver’s throat. The burly Keeper had size and strength to his advantage, but Harry had speed and the element of surprise, and managed to get two good punches in before Oliver even knew what was happening. It seemed like a lot of people were shouting, but he paid less than no attention to what they were saying. The last thing he heard properly was Delf shrieking, “Stop it, stop it, you’ll be hurt!” and then his world shrank to Oliver and putting as many bruises on his body as possible.

 

But after quite a short time (or so it felt to Harry), someone grabbed at his shoulders and yanked him backwards, and he stumbled away. His ears were ringing and his vision was oddly blurry, so it took a moment for him to recognize that Remus was restraining Oliver a short distance away. Delf was crying near the door, and Harry deduced it was Roderick who had pulled him away. Given half a chance to examine his handiwork, he decided he was satisfied. Even though he could feel a bruise forming along the right side of his jaw, and his opposite shoulder felt a little weird, Oliver’s nose was bleeding, his eye was swollen, and he was panting hard, all of which counted as good things just then.

 

Sounds came back after. Oliver was blaring a string of very creative swear words, Roderick was yelling for him to shut up and for Harry to calm down, Lupin pretty much the same, and Delf was telling Roderick to let go of him. Then he came to the strange realization that he himself was yelling without knowing it.

 

“You do _not_ speak to women like that! You do not speak to _Delf_ like that! Monster! Pervert! _Worm!”_

 

“It’s none of your business how I speak to her! I’m allowed to try and convince the frigid bint to give it up, aren’t I?”

 

“Roderick, let me go. He’s not coming out of the Hospital Wing for the next year and a half.”

 

“Leave some for me,” Roderick growled, releasing Harry and rolling his sleeves up.

 

“Boys! _Boys!_ ” Remus shouted, moving to stand between Oliver and Harry and Roderick. “There will be no more fighting.”

 

“Like hell!” Harry retorted. “You heard what he said. He deserves all I can do and worse.”

 

“Harry, calm yourself. I want to hear everything that happened, at once. Miss Greengrass, why don’t you begin and give the boys a chance to settle down.”

 

There was a lot of shouting over the next half hour. Delf accused Oliver of making unwelcome and aggressive advances, which he loudly denied and Harry and Roderick loudly supported. Then came the “unprovoked” attack on Harry’s part, which was three headaches rolled into one. (“Just look at my nose!” Oliver shouted. “I didn’t deserve this!”) In the end, Oliver lost fifty points and Harry lost ten and got his first ever detention. No one left satisfied, which probably meant it was the best solution, but Harry was seething as he and Delf and Roderick returned to Ravenclaw Tower, and he vowed he wouldn’t let Delf out of his sight until the end of the year.

 

The next day, Godric Merlin Dumbledore dropped a letter into the toast rack next to his orange juice.

 

“Perfect,” he grumbled, examining the handwriting. “Remus wrote to Mum and Dad.”

 

“Oh no, have I gotten you in trouble?” Delf asked concernedly, her eyes an incongruous gold.

 

“At least it’s not a Howler again,” Roderick pointed out.

 

“Tom was the one responsible for the Howler,” he said, ripping the envelope open. “Uncle Remus is a little more level headed than my brother, you may have noticed.” He scanned the letter as his friends chortled across the table. It was actually quite sane and non-accusatory, which was refreshing. His mother was concerned and hoped this wasn’t going to become a pattern for him. His dad was concerned as well, but Harry detected a faint note of pride running through the words too.

 

“Quill please,” he said as he dipped a spoon into Delf’s cup of milk. Roderick produced a rumpled specimen from an inner pocket and handed it across as Harry drew his wand and quickly transfigured the milk in the spoon into ink.

 

 _Dear Mum and Dad,_ he wrote.

 

_If Moony hadn’t showed up, I probably would have killed him. I’m not sorry._

 

_Harry_

 

“That wasn’t what I hoped our letter would accomplish…” James muttered when Godric Merlin Dumbledore brought the parchment back that evening.

 

“I definitely would have felt better not knowing that,” Lily agreed. Another owl landed at the kitchen window sill and tapped at the glass till Tipsy let it in. “That’ll be Tom, I imagine.”

 

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

 

“Correct.”

 

_Since our scare at the Quidditch game you came to, where Harry and I fell off our brooms_

 

Lily shuddered. “I never want to see anything like that ever again. I have half a mind to pull them both off the teams.”

 

_(I still can’t believe he caught the Snitch while falling in thin air. It just shouldn’t be allowed),_

 

“Merlin, that was an amazing move. But terrifying, of course,” James added as Lily shot him a look.

 

_Harry asked Uncle Remus to give us both special lessons on how to do this charm that repels Dementors._

 

“Thank goodness for Remus. He’s the only thing that makes me feel like the boys are remotely safe there.”

 

_We’re not going to start until after break, for various reasons that we all know about._

 

“Must be getting near the full moon….”

 

_In other news, there’s this huge rumor flying around that Harry and that Malfoy friend of his tried to kill Oliver Wood yesterday._

 

“Sounds like it got a little exaggerated in the retelling…”

 

“It’s _Hogwarts._ What do you think is going to happen? Remember when I killed Snape about nine times in personal combat? And how he is mysteriously alive and well today?”

 

“Point made.”

 

_I heard the twins telling Ron in the common room that they had overheard Oliver telling Katie during supper that she had been dating a psychopath who had almost ripped his throat out with that Malfoy friend of his, and apparently, Katie blew her top and started screaming at Oliver that he was an absolute prick who should never be allowed near women again in his life. I don’t know who she had been talking to or where she got her information, but she was pretty serious. She has detention this Friday night with Harry, and I heard Lavender Brown telling Parvati and Padma Patil during Herbology that Harry is walking her back to the common room afterwards._

 

“Lord.” Lily took a deep breath after saying the whole paragraph in one go. “He needs to steer clear of the rumor mill.”

 

_But that’s pretty much it._

 

“That’s ‘pretty much it’? That was pretty much everything! What else could there be to say?”

 

“Don’t let him hear you ask that: he might take you seriously.”

 

_I’ll see you very soon for Christmas._

 

_Love, Tom_

  



	19. Christmas at Home

_Christmas at Home_

 

“I don’t want to leave,” Roderick moaned. “The end of term is rubbish. School should go straight from September to June.”

 

“ _That_ is rubbish, sorry,” Delf said. It was the last night before Christmas holiday, and they were alone in the common room. Roderick was in his usual chair, and Harry and Delf were on the sofa across from the fire. Delf’s arms were snugly around his waist, and he absently carded his fingers through her hair. The common room was empty since no one was up late doing homework.

 

“It’s different for you,” Harry told her. “You practically always go home for Christmas. I haven’t been home for it in five years.”

 

“At least you’ve started to get on with your family,” Roderick mumbled. “I mean, I love Mum, and Draco’s alright most of the time, but Dad…” He shook his head. “I’m really starting to hate him.”

 

“Why don’t you stay with Delf? Or Sirius?”

 

“Please do stay with me, actually. Aunt Cecilia and Marie and David are coming for the holiday.”

 

“I wish,” Roderick said unhappily. “Mum wrote that I have to come home. Draco and I both do since we weren’t together last year. Pardon, but _they_ went out of the country.”

 

“If you told them I invited you, could you come?” Delf asked hopefully.

 

“Probably not.”

 

Delf considered. “Then could I come stay with you?” Roderick and Harry laughed.

 

-o-

 

Since Harry had never taken the train home for Christmas before, he mainly just followed Delf and Roderick the next morning as they trooped down to the Hogsmeade train station with a large portion of the school. He and Delf both had their trunks, but Roderick only bore his school bag, stuffed with his books and a few spare clothes. “I have more at home,” he explained when he noticed their confused looks. “I may be too tall for them, but I’m Merlin if I’m bringing my whole trunk home.”

 

The train ride seemed quiet to Harry, who was used to experiencing the train in its state of chaos and youthful turmoil at the beginning and end of each year. But with professors patrolling and the threat of another Dementor search, it was downright subdued. Several people did drop by and make comments about how unusual it was to see Harry on the Christmas train, but no one stayed, so they drew in to Platform 9 ¾ as they had left Hogsmeade: as three.

 

Harry told them reluctant but swift goodbyes as he went off in search of his parents. Tom had found them first (long practice paying off), and they left promptly upon Harry’s arrival.

 

The first thing he noticed upon recovering from side-along Apparation with James was that the house smelled differently than it did during summer. It was a combination of it simply being colder, he expected, the presence of the large, bare Christmas tree in the middle of the dining room, and the very seasonal cooking smells wafting from the kitchen. But whatever the reason, it was something he’d forgotten since he was ten at his last Christmas at home, and he wondered what else there was to rediscover.

 

“ _You’re HOME!”_ a shrill voice squealed, and a small shape pelted out of the kitchen.

 

“ _Oof!”_ All the air in Harry’s lungs left in a whoosh as Tipsy hurtled right into his midriff.

 

“Master Harry is home for Christmas!” she cried, squeezing him tightly around the waist. “Master Harry is home for two whole weeks! Tipsy is so happy!”

 

He grinned down at the top of her head. “Happy Christmas, Tipsy.”

 

She peered up at him, a huge smile plastered across her face. “Is Master Harry excited to begin decorating?”

 

“I’m more excited to sleep, honestly,” he said wryly.

 

“Decorations first,” Lily cut in brightly, startling Harry a little bit. “We started doing it this way once Tom started Hogwarts: the first night is when we do the tree and put everything up.”

 

“Oh.” There was the second thing to learn. “And do you let the fairies in then too?”

 

James scoffed nearby while Lily looked pleased. “Usually yes, but since it was so cold this year, we let them in early.”

 

“Lily, fairies lived outside perfectly happily for thousands of years before you decided to adopt them,” James said exasperatedly.

 

“There isn’t much shelter in the trees, and it’s not like they’re in the way in their fairy boxes.” She indicated the series of little wooden boxes affixed to the ceiling beams. The ceilings of the whole first storey were very high, so it was easy not to notice them unless you were looking for them specifically. They fairies usually lived in the small grove of apple trees at the north end of the grounds, but Lily had started the tradition of having them in for the Christmas season shortly after their family came out of hiding. That, at least, was the same.

 

“Put your things upstairs, boys,” James sighed. “Then we’ll have at the tinsel and holly.”

 

Harry and Tom obediently hauled their trunks upstairs, then went to different ends of the hall for their rooms. There Harry learned he’d accidentally left a window open before leaving for school, and let Hedwig out before closing it and mopping up the puddle that had formed from the rain and snow coming in. When he got back downstairs, his parents and Tom were already working, putting holly boughs over the mantle, and taking ornaments out of boxes and tissue paper. The fairies had emerged and were busily tossing Floating Tinsel in the air and speaking in their unintelligible buzzing language, which made him smile. He left Tom and James to the prickly job of the holly and went to help his mother with the tree, ignoring the fairies that tugged at his hair. He didn’t consider them pests like his father and brother did: he’d gotten too used to ignoring them as he meditated to really think about it anymore.

 

He was surprised by how many ornaments he remembered. Along with the usual glass orbs and stars and glittery bits and so forth, he and Tom both had a pair of china baby shoes with their birth dates and full names painted on the soles; some crumbly paper painted ones they had done the year before Harry turned six; some tiny picture frames with baby portraits and some photos of Lily and James’ wedding, and others of the boys as they got older. There were more of Tom, but that was nothing short of what was expected, and it didn’t affect his quite-good mood.

 

“I’ve always liked this one,” Lily said quietly, dragging Harry out of his brown study and into real life. She held one of the small frame ornaments, and was gazing tenderly at the photo enclosed within.

 

Harry leaned over her shoulder (and noticed, with some shock, that he was nearly taller than her) to look at the picture. It was James and Lily, holding a little dark-haired baby. Lily held the baby’s hand and made him wave to the camera. She and James were both smiling and proud and happy. Smiling at Harry, proud of Harry, happy about Harry.

 

“When was that taken?” Harry asked thickly.

 

“The second Christmas of our marriage,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t even pregnant with Tom then. You were such a beautiful baby… always the spitting image of your father, of course.” She turned to face him, smiling the same gentle smile as in the photo. She reached up to touch his chin, nudging his profile more towards the light. “You really are identical.”

 

“But I got your eyes,” he said, smiling a little uncertainly. “People always notice them.”

 

Her smile deepened. “You did, didn’t you?”

 

The evening ended with hot cocoa and James and Tom grumbling about their pricked fingers while the fairies buzzed happily overhead. The tree was decorated, holly was appropriately decked, and mistletoe hung from the top of the doorframe that led from the dining room to the kitchen.

 

But, as it usually tended to do, the quietude did end. It lasted several days, which was a commendable accomplishment, and when it shattered, Harry was the only one to feel it.

 

He had begged an early night after they’d all spent a long day cleaning the house top to bottom, and the others had retired to Lily’s sitting room with some tea and the evening news paper. But after nearly an hour of lying in bed, he decided that sleep was busy elsewhere and thought it would be nice to go down and join his family. He had already missed too many irreplaceable moments without adding to the list by becoming a recluse.

 

So he got up and padded down the hallway and the stairs and was nearly to the door when Tom’s voice pulled him up short: “Would you still love me if I wasn’t the Boy Who Lived?”

 

Harry positively froze. _No. No, he can’t._

 

The silence that came after indicated their parents were as confused by the question as Harry was alarmed.

 

 _Please, Tom, please please please be smart for once,_ he silently implored.

 

“Why do you ask, darling?” Lily said uncertainly.

 

 _Merlin,_ please _, they can’t know, it would ruin everything, just as it’s started to work…_

 

“I dunno,” Tom muttered. Harry had to focus hard to hear. “I was just thinking, I guess.”

 

“Tom, we know that you have had to face some nasty truths recently, as much as we have. We neglected Harry in favor of you because we let your fame and status go to our heads.” His father’s voice was strained as he said these words, and Harry’s throat ached. This was all he had ever longed to hear from them. Some acknowledgement of what they’d done, some awareness…. “We’d like to say that we love both of you the same, but we haven’t demonstrated that in years, so the painful truth is that… that if Harry had survived that curse rather than you, our treatment of each of you would likely have been reversed. It doesn’t make us proud to know this, but we’re trying to be more honest from now on, with both of you. Does that answer your question?”

 

“Yes,” Tom replied, and Harry held his breath until enough time had passed to be sure Tom wouldn’t follow the thought any further.

 

He decided against joining them after that. He wouldn’t be able to keep a composed expression. He needed time to calm down from the near-miss.

 

One thing was for sure, at least: Tom knew he wasn’t the Boy Who Lived. He obviously wasn’t comfortable enough with the idea to bring it up face-first, but he was circling in around it. And his damned Gryffindor honour would make the keeping of this all-important secret as repulsive to him as Fluffy’s breath. He had to figure out a way to make Tom keep the lid on without letting him know that he knew too.

 

He was back to his room by then, and pulled the duvet up to his chin, still thinking furiously. He’d often thought how exaggerated Tom’s personality seemed, but really, considering that the entire wizarding world had hailed him as its savior and hero since he was a year and a half old, it wasn’t too strange. At least he was basically a good person, if somewhat stuck up and full of himself and horrible at keeping his mouth shut. He had had every opportunity to turn into an actual monster, and hadn’t. But what if _he_ had been raised as the Boy Who Lived? How would he have turned out? Just the same as Tom? Or worse?

 

It was with these thoughts swirling through his mind that he finally dozed off, and he was not met with happy dreams.

 

_All was right in the world: he was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, school Prefect, and celebrated Gryffindor Seeker. He commanded the respect of every student at Hogwarts, and was worshiped by the rest of the wizarding world for defeating the Dark Lord. He swaggered through the school’s halls, not turning to look at the students, older and younger alike, who scrambled to get out of his way. They knew he was not to be crossed, especially after what he and Oliver did to Malfoy…. Not that he hadn’t deserved it, of course. The bastard had made a fool of him in Transfiguration and lost him fifteen points, so he’d had it coming. If he knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t have gone to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey would have asked questions._

 

_As though summoned by his thoughts, a flash of tell-tale blond hair caught his eye. “Oi! Malfoy!” he shouted. It didn’t really matter which one it was: they were both evil Death Eater gits. But in this case it was the elder one, whom he and Oliver had taught their lesson to. The other boy slowed as the throng of students drew away from him. Harry’s word had the power to do that, after all._

 

“ _Potter,” he said shortly, grey eyes flat and dull, Hufflepuff badge glaring humiliating yellow off his chest. Hearsay said Mr Malfoy had been furious about his elder son’s Sorting. The thought made him smirk._

 

“ _Alright?” Harry asked mockingly. “I remember our last encounter didn’t end too well for you.”_

 

_Malfoy moved his shoulder unconsciously and winced. Harry’s smirk deepened. “Remember that lesson next time you think it’s funny to tell McGonagall who unlocked all the animal cages in class. That,” he nodded at the shoulder, “is far from the worst I can do.” He turned on his heel and strutted off._

 

 _He had agreed to meet Kelly before supper and was on his way to the appointed place. She’s promised a gobby_ _for their three-month anniversary. She’d be perfect if she would only stop being taller than him: she was old blood, devoted to him, and the most beautiful girl in school, possibly excepting Daphne Greengrass, but she was a frigid bitch from everything he’d heard, and Slytherin besides._

 

“ _Harry?” A voice rose out of the hubbub, and he turned to see his little brother coming towards him._

 

“ _Tommy!” he called jovially, clapping his arm around the younger boy’s shoulders. “What brotherly advice can I dispense for you now? Girls, is it? I’ve got more than enough advice on_ that _subject, believe you me.” He winked lecherously._

 

“ _Um… actually I don’t need anything right now. In fact I wanted—”_

 

“ _If that’s the case, I need to be going,” Harry said seriously. “Got a bit of an important date waiting for me.” He grinned broadly while Tom flushed in embarrassment. Harry had been only too happy to tell his brother the details of the relations that went on between witches and wizards, but he had not been appreciative._

 

“ _It’s just—I reckoned maybe you could go a bit easy on Malfoy, is all.”_

 

_Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”_

 

“ _I mean, in your Transfiguration class… I heard the monkey bit Tracey Davis, so maybe Malfoy was right to say you did it…” Noticing Harry’s thunderous scowl, he hastened to add, “Not that I like the Malfoys or anything. I know they’re rotten. But I just—it’s not right to beat people up, Harry.”_

 

_Harry sighed. Tom was still so immature about some things… Merlin only knew how he’d made it in to Gryffindor; he was such a ponce about everything. “Brother, let me tell you something. We’re Potters, aren’t we?”_

 

“ _Yes.”_

 

“ _Of course we are. And the most important part of being a proper Potter is what you keep in here.” He tapped his brother’s chest, roughly above his heart. “Honour. Pride. Integrity. We can’t ever let those things go, especially when scum like the Malfoys attack it. Understand?”_

 

_Tom looked troubled even as he nodded. “I guess.”_

 

“ _There’s the man! Now, you toddle off to Ron and Neville or whoever while I go find a certain lady friend, eh?”_

 

_He whistled as he walked off down the corridor. Oh yes, everything was right in the world._

 

Harry lurched awake. _That’s not me_ , he thought desperately. _Even if I was the Boy Who Lived, that would never be me. I’m Harry Potter. My best friends are Roderick Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass. I’m in Ravenclaw. I’m Harry Potter. My friends are Roderick and Delf and Tracey and Cedric and Fred and George and Lawrence and Andrew and Will and Lee Jordan and Chet and Chaz and Roger and Abigail and Cho and Katie and Amanda and Helen…_

 

But if he had been raised as the Boy Who Lived, _would_ he be friends with them? He had become friends with Delf at a Crescent Gala specifically because he hadn’t gone on the stage with his family. If his parents had paid more attention to him as a child, he surely would have inherited the prejudice against the Malfoys. He would have studied with Dumbledore, not Master Jerome. He would be in Gryffindor, not Ravenclaw. He’d have different friends, a different life…

 

His head was spinning unsteady, so he reached out and clicked the bedside lamp on. His room materialized around him, familiar and warm. His Quidditch posters, Hedwig’s cage, the silver frames, four successive pictures of him and Delf and Roderick laughing and waving down at him. He sighed with relief. But the dream was too fresh in his memory to let him relax all the way. He would have preferred a Delf dream to that.

 

To fully expunge the abhorrent images, he got up and went to his bookshelf. Delf’s scrapbooks lived on the highest shelf, and he pulled them down one by one. First year. Second year. Third, then fourth. Fifth year was still in the making, of course. He brought all four of them back to bed with him and spread them on the blanket so he could see them all from where he sat below his pillow. He rarely looked at his scrapbooks. He left them at home during the school year, unlike Roderick, and during the summer he was too busy actually spending time with his friends to have to look through old photos of them.

 

But looking through them now had exactly the intended affect. Four years of friendship and memories were more than enough to remind him of who he was and who he valued. Delf was a wonderful artist, and included sketches of events she hadn’t been able to photograph.

 

In a few hours he was calm again and as dawn peeked in through the west-facing windows, he got up and went to run and meditate. The grass crackled with frozen dew, and the apple trees seemed strangely silent without their diminutive occupants. Godric Merlin Dumbledore was returning from his nocturnal hunt and settling under the eaves of the broom shed. He’d forgotten that Potter Manor was beautiful during winter, even without the dramatics of blizzards and snow like at Hogwarts.

 

He didn’t have to meditate as long as he thought he did, so he ran another couple laps and went inside. James and Tom sat at the breakfast table, the first sipping strong black tea with the morning _Prophet_ , the second looking drowsy over a plate of eggs and ham.

 

“Harry,” James said, sounding startled. “What are you doing out there?”

 

“Running,” he replied, confused. “Like I do every morning.”

 

“But… Lily went to bring you to breakfast twenty minutes ago. We thought you two were just talking.”

 

“I’ve been outside for three quarters of an hour. I haven’t even seen Mum.”

 

“Well, go fetch her down. What in the world is she doing up there?” The last seemed to be rhetorical, so Harry left the kitchen and headed upstairs.

 

His door was ajar, he saw, and since he was always careful to close it, he knew she must be there.

 

He peered around the doorjamb. “Mum?” She was sitting on the edge of his bed, a large book open on her lap.

 

She looked up and he saw her eyes were wet. “Oh… sweetheart… I’m sorry; I just saw these on your bed and wondered what they were…” He came into his room and stood next to her. She was looking at the second year scrapbook, open to the page of his infamous goalpost crash.

 

“The good old days when I only visited the Hospital Wing once a year,” he joked, trying to lighten her mood.

 

Instead her chin wobbled and her eyes went even tearier. “Oh, Harry, these are _beautiful!_ Did you make them?”

 

“Um… No, my friend Daphne did.” Her proper name felt odd in his mouth, but he could not say ‘Delf’. She was not ‘Delf’ to Lily.

 

“They’re lovely…” She ran her fingers over the page as photo-Harry did his spectacular crash again. “Harry, I… we don’t know anything about you, do I? About your life, or your friends, or anything.”

 

“Well, no,” he said reluctantly, sitting on the bed next to her. “You don’t really.” He hated to be so blunt about it when she was obviously having an attack of guilt, but this very thing was what he had so often thought of as their main problem, so he wanted to take the opportunity to fix it as best as possible. He reached behind himself. “This is the one from first year. I still had my glasses then, see?”

 

“Yes. They make you look even more like James… how did you stop wearing them?”

 

“Tracey’s mum gave me contact lenses before second year.”

 

“She’s an optician? A Muggle?”

 

“Yeah, she has an office in London.”

 

“Is this your first Quidditch game?” She had turned the page.

 

“Oh, yeah… the guys lifting me up are Lewis Montgomery and Finn Madden, two of the Chasers.”

 

“Who’s the disgruntled-looking one?”

 

Harry sniggered at the memory. “Arthur Valentine, the Captain. He wasn’t keen on letting me on since I was only a first year, so he looked a bit stupid, even though we’d won.”

 

“Oh. That seems—is your hand bleeding there?”

 

“Only a bit. Since first years aren’t allowed their own brooms, I had to borrow a school one, and I’d missed a splinter. It cut my hand a little.”

 

“But that was the year Sirius taught. Couldn’t you have borrowed his?”

 

“He tried to make me, actually. But I wanted to do everything by the book so that they couldn’t kick me off on a technicality or something. But he gave me one that summer anyway.”

 

“Did Sirius also get you your Nimbus two thousand?”

 

“Yeah, when I turned thirteen…” The thought of his destroyed Nimbus still depressed him a bit. He knew it was only a broom and he would get a new one, but it had been his first really nice proper broom, and losing it was sad.

 

They flipped through the rest of first year, where Harry glossed over the details of the Forest incident and focused mainly on his resultant friendship with the twins. Then they did second year, where Tracey and Cedric appeared in some pictures, and he explained about the fifteen-second Quidditch game (“It seemed like the Snitch just flew at me by accident or something. I wasn’t going to let anyone know so everyone else could play, but it turns out the other balls stop once the Snitch is caught.”). Then she insisted on third year, and chuckled at the photo of him and Roderick making faces of exaggerated disgust and sorrow, with the caption ‘Our brothers are here!’. She was slightly less amused by the copy of Harry’s dragon tattoo Delf had sketched out, and the photo she had taken of the real thing several weeks into term. Of course, third year was the Quirrell year, and there were many details about that which had never been accurately communicated. And then nothing would do but for the fourth year book to come out. As with third year, there were very few candid photos since they had spent so much time in the Library, but there were the usual Quidditch ones, and several Christmas-themed pages since both of his friends had stayed at school with him over the holiday that year. He remembered with barely-stifled amusement how Tom had accused Draco of being the Heir of Slytherin, and how affronted he’d been when Roderick laughed at him. There was a single small picture of him and Katie together near the end of the book with the terse caption ‘Harry dated’. Then on the very last page was a single big photograph of him and Delf on the train, laughing and waving to the camera. He couldn’t remember the photo being taken, or imagine how Delf had gotten it later, but he was glad to have it.

 

By then it was nearly noon, and hunger was making him shaky. So Lily mopped her face (she’d cried on-and-off through the whole presentation) and together they went downstairs. James was in his study and Tom was sleeping on the sofa in front of the fireplace, so they ate cold sandwiches with Tipsy, and Harry was carefully, cautiously, very, very happy.

 

Things fell into a pattern after that. Harry got up and ran and meditated, then ate breakfast with his parents and Tom. He’d spend the morning with Tipsy or the portraits, then eat lunch with his family. Then he’d study or read or write letters in his room in the afternoon, and they’d all eat an early supper together before spending the evening in the sitting room. Sometimes they’d talk, sometimes not, and either way was fine. The only thorn in the bush was that Lily adopted the annoying habit of asking Harry if he would let her cut his hair, which he refused over and over and over again.

 

It was one such afternoon a little over a week into the holiday that James knocked on the door and told him it was time for supper. Harry put the letter he’d been writing to Delf aside (it consisted mainly of sympathy for her sufferings at the presence of David and Marie, and concern that neither of them had heard from Roderick yet) and began organizing all the random bits that always wound up on his desk without his permission.

 

“Can I come in?” asked James’ muffled voice.

 

“Ahh, sure, yeah,” Harry replied absently, trying to remember where he’d gotten three old empty ink bottles and how last year’s Potions book came to be resting on them at the corner of his desk. The door clicked open behind him, and James’ feet took him a few steps into the room.

 

Giving up on the inkwells, he stuffed them in a drawer and got up to go to supper, only to find his father looking strangely thoughtful.

 

“Alright?” he said uncertainly.

 

“This was my room when I was a boy,” James said vaguely. “And my father’s before that. My parents were quite old when they had me, you know. I’m afraid I grew up a bit spoiled. I went through a phase of Permanent Sticking Charms when I was thirteen. You know about the chair in the sitting room, of course. Have you ever tried to shift your bed?”

 

Harry had to admit that was not something he’d done.

 

“You wouldn’t be able to,” his father said, showing a shadow of a smirk. “That bed has seen a lot over the years. As a matter of fact, that’s the very place where your mother and I made—” He came to himself all at once and saved them both the pain of finishing the sentence. “Er,” he said. “That is, supper’s ready, let’s go downstairs.”

 

“Yes, let’s.”

 

Fortunately, Lily immediately started going on about his hair when they appeared in the kitchen, so Harry could pretend to forget the whole conversation even happened.

 

“…be so much more manageable if it was shorter like Tom’s though, don’t you think sweetheart?” Lily said, passing bowls of steaming soup around the table.

 

“For one, it’s actually more manageable like this, and for two, Tom has a pudding bowl cut, and I’d prefer to avoid that.”

 

“I do not!” Tom protested.

 

“You do too,” Harry rejoined.

 

“But if it were all the same length as your fringe, it would look much more uniform,” she implored, reaching across to brush the hair that lay across his forehead. “And you have such lovely thick hair, it’s a shame—Harry, what’s on your forehead?”

 

“What?” he said, reaching up.

 

“Just there!” She pushed his hair more firmly out of the way. “Is that a cut?”

 

“Oh, that? It’s just my old crooked scar. It’s been there for years, Mum.”

 

“Why does it look so raw? This looks like it just happened last week!” She abandoned the soup ladle and came around the table to look at his scar properly. “How long have you had this?”

 

“Well, since I was a kid. I got it when the house fell down, remember?” he said awkwardly. “When Voldemort attacked?” Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Tom go very stiff for a moment, as if he’d been hexed, but couldn’t spare the attention to really notice.

 

“You’ve had this since you were _three?_ Why isn’t this better healed? Harry, have you been scratching at it?”

 

“Of course not!” he exclaimed indignantly, pulling away from her probing fingers.

 

“If you’ve been scratching scars, I’m going to cut off your fingers, Harry, I swear it.”

 

“Lily!” James interjected. “Come now, that’s enough.”

 

“I haven’t been scratching, Mum. Merlin, I’ve got better sense than that. Why do you think I wear a fringe at all? To stop people from asking about it. I don’t know why it is the way it is, but I would fix it if I could, I promise.” Lily simmered down a short while later, and the meal progressed more quietly. Tom kept sending Harry furtive glances, but he really didn’t have the energy to care. Even if it was about stupid things like his hair or his scar, arguing with his mum was tiring.

 

Another few days managed to pass without mishap. Since Harry had done his Christmas shopping over the last Hogsmeade visit, he had the house to himself for the whole morning on the 22nd. He spent it writing a lengthy letter to Delf, continuing an ongoing discussion about Roderick’s extended and worrisome silence. They agreed that his father probably had something to do with it, but what they ought to do was the point of dissension. She suggested a ‘storm the castle’ approach, while he thought that Roderick had been dealing with his father for sixteen years and would be fine for the remaining week of the holiday. They could sort out an alternative arrangement when they saw him again at school, because he obviously didn’t want to keep living there.

 

He heard someone Apparate downstairs just as he released Hedwig out of his bedroom window, and went down to greet them. James was going into his study as Harry came down the stairs and gave only a short greeting and the brief fact that Lily was still shopping before business called him to his study. He found Tom in the kitchen, stacking a large pile of packages wrapped in shiny red and green paper on the table. Tipsy stood on the counter, dusting the tops of the cupboards.

 

“Hey,” he said to his brother, crossing to the fruit bowl and selecting an apple. “Productive trip?”

 

Tom shrugged. “I guess.” His hands were busy arranging the parcels, but his eyes were distant and thoughtful behind his glasses. Then he seemed to come to a decision and set his jaw. “Harry, I have to tell you something.”

 

Harry froze with the apple halfway to his mouth.

 

“Tipsy could you leave us alone, please?”

 

“Certainly, Master Thomas. Tipsy will just go sweep around the beautiful Christmas tree.” She hopped off the counter and pattered out of the kitchen, taking up the small broom and dustpan from behind the door as she left.

 

“Sit down?”

 

Harry obeyed, mind racing frantically. Tom sat opposite him and folded his hands on the table.

 

“I have something to say that’ll seem… far-fetched,” he began, staring fixedly at his knotted fingers. “You may find it difficult to accept, or scared of the effects it may have on your life. I know I’m sort of… I mean, I’m not _scared_ , exactly, but anxious might be right, or apprehensive, maybe. But anyway. My point is that this will be huge for both of us. Life-changing, in fact.”

 

If Harry hadn’t been thinking so hard about how to derail the conversation, he would have been amused and charmed by Tom’s extreme somberness and the respect for the life he was supposedly about to disrupt. That is, Harry’s.

 

“Every time I’ve gotten close to a Dementor, I’ve… heard things.”

 

“You know what I’ve always really admired about you?” Harry interrupted urgently. There was always a last resort with Tom: flattery.

 

Tom looked at him in confusion. “Pardon?”

 

“Yeah,” he said, inventing wildly. “There are a lot of pressures that come with your position, and you’ve always dealt with it really well. I don’t think I could do half so well as you.”

 

Tom’s expression turned pinched and pained. “No, but—”

 

_Tap-tap. Tap-tap._

 

They looked up simultaneously to see a bedraggled owl perched on the sill outside. It held a rumpled letter in its beak. “I’ll get it,” Harry said quickly, and sprang up.

 

The owl had flown through a rain storm at some point during its journey, and it shook itself mightily before giving Harry the letter. He looked it over, absently fumbling for the little dish of Knuts they kept for the owls that brought the _Prophet_.

 

“Wait, this is Roderick’s handwriting!” he exclaimed, and tore it open. Harry could always recognize the distinctive left-handed scrawl.

 

 _Hey Harry,_ he read. _I’m living with Sirius for now. I’ll explain more when I see you. From the position I’m in, I beg you to try and make it work with your parents. –Roderick_

 

Before he had a chance to react properly, a shout echoed from the far end of the house: “Harry!” It was James.

 

“What?” Harry yelled back.

 

Their father appeared in the door to the kitchen a moment later, brandishing a page of parchment. “Your Malfoy friend is living with Sirius!”

 

“I know, he just wrote me!” He held out his own letter.

 

“Sirius did?”

 

“No, Roderick.”

 

“He left the Malfoy house?”

 

“I guess. I mean, if he’s living away with Sirius, I assume he did.”

 

Tom had stood by through all of this, obviously torn over his curiosity about the current situation and his honour-driven urge to tell Harry the truth as soon as possible.

 

“So…” James had clearly not noticed the strange tension in the room, and that was fine with Harry. “‘Roderick’ is your Sirius?”

 

“I have been saying that for years, Dad.”

 

“Well, it’s not that you can really blame us for being a little skeptical.”

 

“I can, actually,” Harry shot back. “What did your parents think of Sirius when you first brought him home?”

 

“My parents weren’t political.”

 

“Weren’t prejudiced, you mean.”

 

“Alright, look. I’m sorry. I know I ought to know better than to judge your friends by their family. Why don’t you…” James groped for something to say that would be at once reconciliatory and allow him to keep face. “Why don’t you invite him over? Him and Sirius can both come for dinner some time.”

 

“Can I invite De—Daphne too?” he asked quickly.

 

James hesitated. Then, “Certainly,” he said, and Harry smiled. Playing his parents’ guilt seemed to have unanticipated benefits.

 

“Then can I ask Ron and Hermione?” Tom asked stridently. Harry took that as a good indication that they’d left the previous topic behind.

 

“Well….” James wavered. “We should ask your mother before bringing too many people into the house…”

 

“But Dad, I thought you were the head of the family,” Tom said, causing Harry some surprise. What an unusually Slytherin-y thing for him to have said!

 

“I am!” James objected, clearly caught off-guard. “That is—well!” He frowned back and forth between his sons. “Fine, go write them all. Why not? Why not!”

 

“Can we have them for New Years?” Harry asked eagerly. “You and Mum were going to go to the Ministry thing without us anyway.” That was true. The Ministry hosted an adults-only New Years Eve party every year, and it used to be Tom’s biggest complaint that he never got to go, since he was an ‘unusually mature and responsible underage person’ (he never liked being called a ‘child’).

 

“Fine,” James grumbled, running his fingers through his hair exasperatedly.

 

Just then Lily Apparated into the foyer and James sighed and went out to greet her, leaving Harry and Tom alone together. Harry quickly started to leave to avoid Tom resurrecting their previous conversation, but Tom foiled the attempt by speaking up.

 

“Harry, wait.”

 

With every ounce of reluctance he had ever felt, Harry turned to face him.

 

“You’re happy the way you are, aren’t you?” Tom asked, looking shrewd.

 

“Impeccably,” Harry replied firmly.

 

Tom nodded as if he had had some kind of deep suspicion confirmed, and Harry nearly laughed at the realization that Tom’s Gryffindor honour had worked out in his favour after all: Tom thought it would be the better, more noble thing to do to keep the ‘burden’ of being the Boy Who Lived to himself, thus sparing Harry a great deal of distress and pain. Not that he was complaining. It was, in fact, exactly what he had wanted to happen.

 

Lily came in all in a tizzy just as Harry was leaving properly, and seemed to think it was Harry, not Roderick, who had just suffered a massive upheaval in his personal life. She fully supported the idea of having their friends over for New Years Eve, for which James was no doubt grateful. She even suggested they extend the visit for the two days after that when term started again. Harry knew Delf would be happy to hear that: any excuse to get away from David and Marie was gold to her eyes. As for Roderick, well. He was coming whether he liked it or not, because Harry was certainly not going to wait for school to start back up before getting a full explanation. Best friends didn’t secede from their families every day, and it was important to know Roderick was alright. So he and Tom went and wrote their letters.

 

They got four affirmative answers back that evening and the next morning, and Tipsy was jumping for joy at the thought of Potter Manor finally having young guests again, just like when Mister Sirius used to come and stay! Her casual remark made Harry remember that the littlest member of the family was actually the oldest, clocking in at nearly 80.

 

By the time Christmas arrived, Harry had nearly forgotten why it was supposed to be important because of everything else going on. Tom (thankfully) hadn’t broached the topic of their somewhat confusing identity again, but he did seem preoccupied and they frequently had to ask a question two or three times before he paid any mind. Aside from that, Harry wrote incessant letters to Delf and Roderick, and was so entirely immersed in their dialogue that when James woke him up extra-early on the morning of the 25th, he literally could not think what was happening.

 

He cheered up once he got a grip on the date though. The fairies were having a party in the tree, Tipsy had brewed up some eggnog and ginger cookies, and there was a package that looked suspiciously like a broomstick with his name on it. He was allowed to choose the first gift, and the broom was his natural choice. And, as he had half-expected and fully hoped, it was a Firebolt, and it was beautiful.

 

Tom got to open one next. Not that Harry was really paying attention: he had _seen_ Tom’s Firebolt, sure, but this one was _his_ , and he was perfectly within his right to ogle it a bit. Thus, he did not notice anything special about Tom’s present until it started hooting. That made him look up.

 

Tom seemed fully present for the first time in a week as he tore the wrapping paper off the large rectangular cage. His eyes were bright and shiny as he beheld his very own owl. Harry was impressed in spite of himself. The owl was large, its feathers a couple shades lighter than Delf’s hair. To his inexpert eye, it looked young, but he had no idea as to the breed.

 

“Wow…” Tom breathed.

 

“What will you name him, darling?” Lily asked.

 

“I get to _name_ him?” said Tom.

 

“Of course,” James laughed. “The shopkeeper had only just gotten him in. Wasn’t there long enough to be named.”

 

Tom looked at his owl thoughtfully. “What kind is he?”

 

“A great horned owl,” James said proudly.

 

“Wicked,” Tom murmured. “I’ll name him… Archimedes.” He lifted his chin, as if declaring the victorious return of a hero. Harry sniggered into his hand, and was gratified to see James was likewise amused, only he hid it better.

 

There were a few other things for the boys, and they had both gotten their parents something. But Harry was eager to try out his broomstick, and Tom wanted to get properly acquainted with Archimedes, but Lily wouldn’t let him out near the fairies. So they went their separate ways: Tom upstairs, Harry outside, and Lily and James to various parts of the house.

 

As beautiful as the Firebolt was to look at, it was better to fly. The air was biting cold against his skin, but he didn’t care that he was seriously underdressed for the weather. Flying on his Nimbus had felt like riding on the wind: with the Firebolt, he _was_ the wind. And it was glorious. He hadn’t actually flown at Potter Manor since his eleventh birthday party, and the experience was both exhilarating and slightly terrifying. He flew, weaving and diving and dodging around at incredible speeds, but after a short time his fingers started feeling icy, and he went in, deeply satisfied. Remus came over to Christmas tea that night, and they did crackers and carols and everything, and they all went to bed late.

 

The next few days were dedicated to cleaning, and random other preparations that came with having semi-long term guests over. They fixed up two of the spare bedrooms for Delf and Hermione, but decided that Roderick and Ron would just bunk with Harry and Tom, respectively. That meant moving spare mattresses into their rooms (and for Tom, it meant a long-overdue and very thorough cleaning of his floor). Tipsy was in her element, and even the portraits were more animated than usual. Harry had told them a great deal about Delf and Roderick over the years, and they were eager to meet them again.

 

And so it was, on the afternoon of the 30th, that Harry and Tom were on the sofa in front of the Floo fireplace, while Lily and James lurked inconspicuously nearly—Lily twiddling around in the kitchen and James in his study with the door open. Harry had a book, but Tom got progressively more antsy and bored as the minutes wore on with no friends forthcoming.

 

But as the minute-hand on Harry’s watched ticked just to six, green flames flared up, and Delf stepped out of the fireplace. Tom flopped back dejectedly. Harry, however, jumped up. “Hello,” he said happily, going to her to help get her trunk off the grate.

 

“Happy Christmas,” she said warmly. He saw her eyes were a mix of green and gold, which was a relief. He’d spent too much time with an angry Delf recently. She smiled when he pointed them out, and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. Harry flushed to the roots of his hair, and, to avoid having to think about whether it would be polite to reciprocate, pretended it hadn’t happened.

 

Just then Lily, with unusually perfect timing, came in from the kitchen. “Did I hear someone get here?” she asked cheerfully. Harry resisted rolling his eyes because yes, of course she had. She had been lurking in the kitchen specifically to listen for them.

 

“Mum, this is my friend Daphne Greengrass. Delf, my mum, Lily Potter,” he said formally.

 

“It’s wonderful to meet you, dear,” Lily said, extending her hand.

 

“Likewise,” Delf returned coolly as they shook. Since Lily didn’t know her, she didn’t notice the slight variation from Delf’s usual tone, but Harry did and made a mental note to tell her to be nice once they were alone. He had never told his friends anything explicit about his relationship with his family, but they had inferred a great deal, and Delf had formed a grudge against his parents almost fiercer than Harry’s own.

 

“We’ve prepared a room for you upstairs if you’d like to put your things away.” Lily had obviously not noticed the slight unfriendliness.

 

“I’ll show her, Mum,” Harry said, and hoisted Delf’s trunk for her. Mrs. Weasley Apparated out in front of the gate outside while they were upstairs, and when they came back down, Tom, Ron and Hermione were looking secretive in a corner while Lily ushered Mrs. Weasley into the kitchen for tea. Tom and the other two disappeared upstairs, but Delf and Harry went back to the fireplace to wait for Roderick.

 

“Last time I was in here, you were lying here with a broken arm telling us to go home,” she said matter-of-factly. They were on the sofa. Delf rested her head on his shoulder, and he’d put his arm around her, just to be comfortable.

 

“Last time you were here was nearly five years ago,” he reminded her gently. “A lot can change in five years.”

 

“A lot can change in five seconds,” she rejoined smartly, but there was something under her voice he’d never heard before. He looked down at her.

 

“Delf?”

 

She looked back at him, and her eyes were something strange, something between green and hazel and pitch, pitch black, and he had no idea what to make of them. “I—” she started, but then a sharp _crack_ announced someone Apparating into the foyer. Then a voice that sounded suspiciously like Roderick’s grumbled something about using the Floo Network next time, and someone who sounded suspiciously like Sirius laughed.

 

“Hallooooo Potters!” he shouted a moment later, and Harry and Delf leapt up and reached the door just in time to see James Potter and Roderick Malfoy meet properly for the first time. They shook hands uncertainly, neither one sure what to expect of the other. To James, Roderick was the heir to the Malfoy name (until quite recently), and the Malfoys were Death Eaters, supporters of the very man who had tried to rip his family apart and succeeded in killing his mother. All Roderick knew about James was that he hated the family he’d just left and had spent the majority of the past 15 years neglecting Harry. Not exactly excellent terms to meet on, but James knew Roderick had just left the Malfoy house, and Roderick knew James and Harry were starting to get on again, so it was something.

 

“An honour to meet you, young man,” James said gravely, and Roderick’s relief was palpable.

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

Then, of course, there had to be tea for everyone, and it was nearly eight o’ clock by the time Mrs. Weasley and Sirius went home. In true adult fashion, James and Lily ordered bedtime, and seemed surprised when all six teenagers were eager to comply. Of course, ‘bedtime’ did not mean ‘going to sleep’. It meant ‘we have an excuse to go talk in private now, let’s take it’.

 

So with no further ado, Harry bid his parents and brother goodnight and rushed his friends upstairs to his room.

 

“Ok,” Harry said severely as soon as they were all settled around his room. Roderick was on the mattress on the floor that was to be his bed for the next several days, Delf was on Harry’s bed, and Harry was in his desk chair. He had been on the bed as well, but Delf’s proximity had brought back his and James’ abandoned conversation and he had quickly moved. “Tell us what happened.”

 

Roderick looked startled. “Is this what it’s like for you every time you do something stupid and we ask about it?”

 

“But you’re always there when I do stupid things,” Harry said, confused.

 

“Let’s not change the subject,” Delf said pointedly.

 

Roderick sighed. “There’s not much to tell. I mean, I imagine you’ve figured out most of it just from context. Dad was destroying my mail, keeping me in the house, we were fighting a lot, and then last week, irreparable things were said, and I left. You know my mouth gets ahead of my brain when I’m angry. So I’m not going back when term gets out next summer. Sirius is letting me stay with him.” He shrugged. “That’s it.”

 

“But you and your father have been fighting for years,” Delf said, voicing Harry’s thought to a tee. “What happened that was so much worse?”

 

“He, uh… I told him I like Tracey.”

 

“…That’s it?”

 

“Yes, Delf, that’s ‘it’. You apparently underestimate my father’s hatred of Muggle-borns.”

 

“But Tracey’s half. And she’s in Slytherin.”

 

“She never knew her dad, so she’s essentially Muggle-born. Her mum didn’t know how to contact the magical world after he died. And she could be in Gryffindor for all he cares about her house. It’s her blood that matters. You remember how furious he got when I brought up the Muggle-born in our family a couple years ago, don’t you?”

 

Harry and Delf nodded. “The one who died of dragon pox suspiciously soon after they got married,” she said.

 

“So there you have it. The Malfoy heir obviously can’t like Muggle-borns, and if he does, he can’t be the Malfoy heir anymore. I know he was already thinking about disinheriting me before this, but now he definitely will. And that’s fine.”

 

“That’s right,” Harry interrupted. “You said something about that on the train.”

 

Roderick paused. “That’s right, I did. I started thinking about it after I went snooping in Dad’s office and found that book about Horcruxes, remember?” The other two nodded. “While I was in there, I saw some books about inheritance law open on his desk. Apparently there was a case a lot like this a few centuries ago, where there was nothing wrong with the elder son, but the father wanted the younger one to come into everything.”

 

“Why didn’t he just look at the Blacks?” Harry asked.

 

“Well, in case you haven’t realized, Sirius still got it all in the end, which Dad wants to avoid. And besides, he was only actually written out of the will, not kicked out of the family. He explained the whole thing to me. It’s functionally the same, but not legally. Sirius was still a Black. As soon as Dad’s done with everything, I literally won’t have surname anymore. I will be Roderick Blank.” He said this last with a touch of pride, though he was obviously very anxious about the whole thing.

 

“How did you decide to go to Sirius’?” Harry asked. “Our usual thing is to go to Delf’s.”

 

“Sure, during summer, with Master Jerome, not Christmas holiday with family visiting. Sirius got me from the Leaky Cauldron anyway: I had no idea where to go.”

 

“And I’m sure you two are having far too much fun,” Delf said, sounding a bit envious.

 

“I guess… he does have work, you know. But the day after he took me in, we went to the ancestral Black home and blasted my name off the family tree. _That_ was fun.”

 

They talked on for several hours, eventually drifting away from inheritance and family matters, and cycling through the old standbys of school, friends and gossip, and Quidditch (at which Delf rolled her eyes). But they all proved rather more tired than they had expected, and it was barely eleven when Harry and Roderick told Delf goodnight and she went across the hall to her room. Harry was asleep mere moments later.

 

The next day was New Years Eve, and Harry and his friends spent the morning in the library, chatting with the portraits. Roderick thought Melody and Gregory were hilarious, while Delf questioned each of them in turn about the history of the Potter family. She didn’t have any portraits of her family at her house, so she grabbed the opportunity to get a close, personal view on recent magical history. Sirius arrived for tea time, and the kitchen was busier and noisier than Harry had ever heard it, not counting Tom’s birthdays. Tipsy was having a ball, of course.

 

The adults were due at the Ministry by nine PM, which meant there was plenty of time for a quick game of pick-up Quidditch before they had to get ready. Harry, Roderick and Sirius played Tom, Ron and James, the former two playing Keeper while the others were Chasers. Harry let Roderick use his Firebolt and their team beat Tom’s quite handily, and they were all freezing when they got back inside. Hermione, Delf, and Lily were sharing tea in the kitchen as they all tromped in, and Tipsy bustled about putting more water on and finding enough cups and saucers for everyone.

 

“So, Roderick,” Lily said as soon as they were all settled. Harry looked at her warily. This was not the correct time or subject to be tactless. “You’ve been living with Sirius for about a week, right?”

 

“Um, yes, nine days,” Roderick replied awkwardly.

 

“And you went there straight from the Malfoy house?” James asked casually.

 

“Dad,” Harry hissed, but Roderick only shrugged.

 

“I hadn’t planned to go to Sirius’, actually. I went to the Leaky Cauldron first, and he found me there.”

 

Sirius chuckled “When Tom—” Tom looked confused “—the barkeep—Floo-called me to pick up my drunk cousin, I was expecting to find Tonks.”

 

“ _Drunk?_ ” Delf repeated incredulously, setting her tea cup down with a clatter. “You didn’t mention that!”

 

Roderick coloured a little and avoided the shocked and rather disapproving faces of Lily, Tom and Hermione. “I wasn’t _drunk_ ,” he muttered. “Stupid Tom—” Tom looked affronted “—the barkeep, gave me something a lot stronger than it tasted, but I wasn’t actually drunk.”

 

“Yeah you were, cuz,” Sirius said cheerfully. “Good thing I thought to Apparate to the loo back at my place.”

 

Roderick blanched at the memory. “That was just because you Apparated, not…”

 

“Okay, that’s enough of that, I’d say,” Delf interrupted.

 

“Oh look, we should get ready to go now,” Lily said loudly, standing up and beginning to clear the tea things away. Harry stood with equal relief as everyone at the table began to disperse, and he, Delf, and Roderick scarpered back to Harry’s room.

 

“You were _drunk?_ ” Delf repeated again once the door was safely closed.

 

“Well, not—I mean, I had… yeah, I guess I was,” he replied sheepishly.

 

“How was it?” she asked eagerly.

 

“I wasn’t quite in the right mindset to enjoy it, you know? But…I think I liked it,” he said, grinning.

 

“Ugh. No fair! Now I’m the only one who hasn’t been drunk before!”

 

“When were you drunk, Harry?”

 

“Egypt,” he said wryly.

 

“Oh, that’s right.”

 

“ _Twice,_ ” Delf stressed jealously.

 

“Well, no time like the present, right?” Roderick said jauntily. “The adults will be gone in an hour. We can hole up in here Harry’s room and ring in the New Year properly.”

 

“Maybe my parents were right about you being a bad influence after all,” Harry said, and Roderick laughed.

 

So at nine o’ clock, when Lily, James, and Sirius Disapparated from the dining room, Harry, Delf and Roderick went to find Tipsy in the kitchen. Harry and Roderick asked after any biscuits she might have lying around looking for a home, while Delf wandered over to the liquor cabinet in the corner and casually fiddled with the lock on the front. Harry accidentally dropped a plate which just so happened to cover the sound of her murmuring “Alohamora” and reflected on how perfectly orchestrated coincidences have to be sometimes.

 

When they left, they were toting several large platters of sweets and biscuits, and Delf had a couple clinking bottles of something alcoholic tucked into her sweater. Harry felt a bit bad about tricking Tipsy, but he knew she wouldn’t have approved of her Young Master Harry and his friends getting drunk in his room. In many ways, Tipsy was more of a mother to him than Lily. Not to say that Lily would have been alright with them getting sloshed either. But she wasn’t there.

 

They locked themselves in Harry’s room and examined their loot. They had three different kinds of cookies (chocolate chip, ginger snap, and butterscotch walnut), and Delf had grabbed two medium-sized bottles, one a quarter full of Firewhiskey and the other two-thirds full of Bungbarrel Spiced Mead.

 

“What first?” Delf asked, surveying the arrangement. They were in a rough triangle, cross-legged on the floor by Roderick’s mattress with the biscuits and alcohol in the middle.

 

“I’d say Firewhiskey,” Roderick replied, munching a ginger snap. “A shot of that to see if it’s good, then the mead.”

 

“What did you lot drink before?” Delf asked, reaching to open the Firewhiskey.

 

“I dunno,” said Roderick, reaching for the chocolate chip cookies. “Tom didn’t tell me what he gave me. Delicious, whatever it was.”

 

“I haven’t got a clue either,” Harry said, taking the bottle from her. “It was all in Arabic. Well, happy new year! Bottoms up!” The whiskey tasted warm against his tongue, warm and friendly. He held it in his mouth thoughtfully as he handed it off to Roderick. He took a brave swig just as Harry swallowed, so they both started coughing at the same time. Delf looked between them doubtfully over the mouth of the bottle.

 

“Do it,” Roderick choked, tears beginning to leak from his eyes.

 

Harry could only nod. ‘Firewhiskey’ was too tame a name for what he had just drunk. ‘Inferno-whiskey’ would be more appropriate, or ‘volcano-whiskey’ maybe. Searing heat was taking root in his gut and spreading outwards through his chest and limbs. He tried to cough away the embers in his throat, but that only stoked them to higher heat.

 

Through watering eyes, he saw Delf take a tentative sip, and had to grin as she started coughing too.

 

“I don’t think we need any more of that,” she gasped, setting the bottle aside. Harry and Roderick nodded fervent agreement.

 

It took a few minutes for the burning to subside, and by the time it did, they all found the situation incredibly funny. They opened the mead, which, fortunately, was much more enjoyable, and it wasn’t long until Delf threw a ginger snap at Roderick. That started a contest of throwing cookies at each other’s’ faces to see who could catch them in their mouths, which somehow led to acting out impressions of their classmates – Harry laughed particularly hard at Roderick’s impression of him and Delf’s impression of Kelly, even though it involved her undoing too many buttons on her blouse – and that somehow led to making resolutions, and those only got more and more ridiculous as the night went on and the mead bottle got emptier and emptier.

 

“…and them I’m gonna go up to P’efessor Trelawny and say, ‘oi! Oi, you! You told me I was gonna die. Well, I didn’t die!’ I’ll say that to her,” Harry said, earning cackles from Delf and Roderick.

 

They were all well and truly swimming in it by then, so much so that they forgot to look at a clock until it was three minutes past midnight. But that did not dampen their celebration: Roderick jumped up cheering, only to topple over immediately. Harry threw his arms in the air and tried to whistle even though his lips were a little numb, only to have Delf somehow appear on his lap and kiss him sloppily at the corner of his mouth. And because he was drunk, and because it was New Years, and because he half-thought he was dreaming already, he kissed her back. Her lips were warm and tasted sparkly. He didn’t remember stopping, but they must have, because she was suddenly shouting “HAPPY NEW YEARS!”

 

The rest of the evening became increasingly blurrier in his memory until it sank into the clear darkness of sleep.

 

-o-

 

His head was a Bludger. Not only that, it was a Bludger after a particularly rowdy Quidditch game, in which every single player was a Beater and the only object was to hit him. Suffices to say, his head hurt. But not only did his head hurt, his mouth tasted like he’s been chewing a pillow stuffed with old socks, and his right arm had disappeared.

 

Rocking his head sickly to the side, he saw that his arm actually was still there: he just couldn’t feel it because Delf was using it for a pillow, and probably had been for most of the night. They were sprawled half-on and half-off of Roderick’s mattress. Roderick himself curled into a tight little knot where the mattress met the corner of the wall. He was wrapped around his pillow like a big blond prawn. Memories of the night before were like bits of broken glass that he carefully put together. He groaned aloud when he remembered kissing Delf. What must she think of him? How could he have possibly done something so foolish and selfish? Would she still want to be his friend?

 

Now that he was more or less conscious, logic started creeping back around the edges of hysteria. What time was it? He lifted the arm he could still feel and gazed at his watch for a long moment.

 

“ _Ten-forty!?_ ” he shouted once all the little numerals started making sense. His own voice made his head pound, however, and he had to spend the next few minutes lying still and silent. His friends, still dead to the world, had not so much as twitched at his exclamation. And so, since his arm was trapped under Delf, disabling him from getting up, he was blessed with spending the next half hour becoming intimately familiar with every nook and cranny of his horrible, horrible hangover.

 

His friends did not fare much better, which was even less of an amusing comfort than he had hoped for. Fortunately, none of the other residents of Potter Manor were up any earlier than they, so most of his raging headache had dissolved by the time he faced his parents at one that afternoon. Two liters of water seemed to do about half the job of one hangover potion, but they hadn’t thought ahead to have those handy. Truth to tell, they hadn’t thought ahead at all. But all in all, New Years at Potter Manor was a smashing success.

 

The next two days sped past with unfortunate speed. Despite the drama he’d been half expecting with his friends in the house, Harry found himself having a wonderful time. Being with Delf and Roderick over holiday, and with Tom, Ron and Hermione to harass to boot, was absolute bliss. He kept trying to find a time to talk to Delf about what they had done on New Years, but there was usually someone else around, or she got distracted by something and dragged him off to do something else. Tom and his two friends spent most of their time outside, despite the cold. Tom and Ron would blow around on broomsticks while Hermione read under the bare apple trees, and if three crows happened to come by and abuse them for a bit, was it so strange for Harry, Roderick and Delf to come around the corner of the house a moment later, laughing madly? They didn’t think so. Harry was so busy having fun that he entirely forgot to be excited to go to back to school.

 

But back to school they went, bags packed, owls caged, students bright-eyed and bushy-tailed—mostly. Delf had snuck into Harry’s room again and all three of them had chattered away late into the night. Harry had barely woken up in time to run, let alone meditate. But then they were off again, for the second half of fifth year.

 

**Mini-chapter: Draco**

 

He hadn’t thought it possible. Literally had not thought it possible. Roderick and Father had never gotten along, obviously. Draco had always blamed the elder Potter for corrupting his brother, but in recent years—basically, since he’d started Hogwarts—he had begun to think that it was Roderick’s true nature after all. He flouted their family values and customs, hung out with Potter and Mudbloods and Weasleys, and was utterly unapologetic about it. So sure, Father and Roderick fought a lot, especially in the last few years. But family was family. People didn’t just _leave_ their family, it just… it wasn’t _done_. But Father had…

 

_They had been at supper, in the large formal dining room. Father sat at the head of the table, as always. Roderick was at his right, Draco his left, with Mother on Draco’s other side. They had not spoken, outside of Mother’s request for the salt to be passed, which Draco had quietly obliged._

 

If he was very, very honest, Draco admired his brother. Roderick and Potter and Greengrass seemed to emanate a sort of freedom, especially at school, that he could only covet and envy. But Draco was never very, very honest, and they weren’t at school; they were at home, where Roderick had the distinct disadvantage of being out of Father’s favour.

 

Draco lay on his bed, listening to the silence of the rest of the house. Father had locked himself in his study, Mother was crying in her sitting room, and Draco was there, thinking. Roderick exuded an utterly devil-may-care attitude that caused Father as much fury as it did Draco envy. But at supper, that fury had… Father had…

 

“ _So boys,” Father had said. “How are you classes going?”_

 

“ _Very well, Father,” Draco recited. It was an old, familiar dialogue, one they had every time they came home from school._

 

“ _Same,” Roderick muttered. Draco glared across the table, leaning slightly to see around a large floral arrangement. He_ hated _when his brother did this: left the conversational responsibilities to him._

 

“ _Draco, I trust you are making every effort to improve your marks this year.”_

 

_He scowled. Stupid Ravenclaw Roderick never got lectured about his marks. About everything else, yes, but never his marks. “Yes, Father.”_

 

“ _Good. Have either of you made any new little friends?” Father asked, not looking up from the slice of roast he was cutting on his plate._

 

“ _No, Father,” Draco replied. “Crabbe and Goyle send holiday greetings.” Untrue, of course, but it was the proper thing to say._

 

 _Father seemed pleased. “You did well with those two.” Father considered friends to be a great tool for social leverage, an opinion which Draco shared. Crabbe and Goyle might be unutterably stupid, but they were useful. “Their fathers are good men._ Right-minded _men.” Father took a bite and chewed slowly. Swallowed. “Roderick? Did you make any new friends?”_

 

_Roderick went tense across the table. “No,” he said quietly. “I don’t need new friends. I like the ones I have.”_

 

_Father put his flatware down. Draco took a nervous mouthful of water. At his side, Mother twisted her napkin in her lap._

 

But to tell the truth, as much as he secretly admired Roderick, he understood something his brother didn’t. No matter what, family came first. Draco understood and accepted that unity was the core tenant of their family, while Roderick actively defied it by becoming friends with the Potter heir and hanging about with Davis all the time. He didn’t understand that they had to stand against other families like the Potters and Weasleys, and Mudbloods like Granger. At this thought he flushed hot and went to light some pages on fire.

 

“ _Don’t you think it’s time you outgrew this silly rebellious phase?” Father asked coldly._

 

“ _Lucius,” Mother pleaded. She hated when Father and Roderick fought._

 

“ _Not now, Narcissa,” Father snapped. “Roderick, we’ve turned a blind eye for as long as possible, but really, it’s time to grow up. You’ll be of age in less than a year, and you need to think about the kind of man you want to be and the sort of life you want to live.”_

 

“ _I have been,” Roderick shot back, chin high in defiance. “And I know I want to be nothing like you!”_

 

_Father’s expression darkened. “You are speaking like a foolish child. You were born a Malfoy, and as the eldest, are my heir. Malfoys behave a certain way, and it’s time you realized that.”_

 

_Roderick shook his head, looking disgusted. “I need to be excused.” He tossed his napkin on the table and stood up._

 

“ _Come back here!” Father shouted, surging from his chair as Roderick made for the door. “If you think mucking about with Potters and Blacks and Mudbloods is enough to nullify who you are—”_

 

“Shut up!” _Roderick shouted, whirling around and stalking back towards the table. “If you had half an idea of who I am, you still wouldn’t know how wrong you are about me.”_

 

“ _I know exactly who you are,” Father hissed. They were practically nose to nose now, the similarity of their features emphasized by their near-identical expressions of rage. “You’re weak, a mistake, a smear to be wiped away.”_

 

“ _At least I’ll never be you.”_

 

_Draco heard it before he saw it. Father’s hand went up and there was a sound that was like no other sound. Flesh on flesh, flat hatred meeting hatred in violence and heat. Father hit Roderick._

 

“Lucius!” _Mother screamed._

 

“ _You can’t change me,” Roderick snarled, and Father did it again. Father hit Roderick again._

 

“ _Dad…” Draco whispered._

 

“ _Harry Potter is my best friend,” Roderick growled, and Father did it again. Father hit Roderick again._

 

_Mother was weeping._

 

“ _I’m in love with a Muggle-born!” Roderick shouted triumphantly._

 

_Father did not hit Roderick. He raised a shaking arm and pointed to the door. “Get out.”_

 

_Instead of going upstairs, as Draco had assumed Father meant, Roderick went to the large hearth and drew out a handful of dull Floo Powder from the ornate vase. He said two words that Draco did not hear, scattered the dust, and stepped into the hungry green flames. He was gone._

  



	20. The Stag

**To everyone still telling me you’re impatient with Harry and Delf, you’re absolutely right and I’m absolutely sorry.**

_The Stag_

 

Sirius had to help them Apparate everyone and everything to the train station that morning. Harry and Delf went with him, James took Tom and Ron and Lily had Roderick and Hermione. The train station seemed nearly as packed as at the beginning of the year, but that only made sense: nearly the whole school had gone home for the holiday because of Pettigrew rampaging about. But despite his family’s history with the man, Harry couldn’t help but feel a deep scorn mixed in with all the hatred.

 

Roderick got on the train immediately while Delf went to find her family for a last goodbye, and Harry told his parents and Sirius farewell. He was glad they were at last on good terms: that went without saying. But he was equally glad to be going back to Hogwarts, where he knew exactly how things worked, got along with everyone, and things were generally easier (excepting everything to do with Tom).

 

He dragged his trunk onto the train, taking the door he thought Roderick had used. He was wrong, however, and had to spend nearly twenty minutes going up and down, looking for them. He finally saw Delf about to go into a compartment at the other end of the car he had just entered, and realized he had found his chance to do the right thing and clear the air about New Years.

 

“Delf!” he called. “Wait.” She looked up. Her eyes were a very green hazel. Happy but anxious. Did that bode well? He didn’t know, and told himself he couldn’t care.

 

“Everyone else is in here,” she said, gesturing through the marbled glass. He saw the blurry shapes of Roderick, the Weasley twins, Tracey and Lee Jordan.

 

“Right… I need to talk to you.”

 

“Okay.” She set her trunk down and looked at him squarely. “What is it?”

 

He gulped nervously. “I don’t know if you remember, but when we all got drunk at New Years, you and I, um, we kissed a bit.” He hoped he wasn’t blushing _too_ badly.

 

“I remember,” she said. “What of it?”

 

 _What of it?_ What kind of question was that? They had _kissed_ , that’s what of! “I just want to reassure you that I don’t, you know, feel that way about you. We’re only friends. Things don’t need to be awkward at all.”

 

Her eyes shifted incrementally towards orange, but when she blinked, they were that mysterious blank black. “Did you think things were awkward?”

 

“No, I just didn’t want them to become that way.” He was doing a rotten job of explaining this. Though honestly, he had anticipated and entirely different reaction from her. Something a little more relieved perhaps.

 

“Why would they?”

 

He was rapidly becoming confused. “I mean… friends don’t just kiss each other. You wouldn’t kiss Roderick.”

 

“But you’re not Roderick,” she replied.

 

Just then, the door to the next car slid open behind her, admitting Alicia, Angelina, and Katie.

 

“Oh, hi Harry,” Katie said brightly. “Alright?”

 

“Alright,” he returned. “See you at school, yeah?”

 

“Sure. Later.”

 

The three Gryffindor Chasers went on past, and Harry and Delf were shortly alone again.

 

“You’re okay with kissing Katie, but not me?” she asked, crossing her arms in an ornery fashion.

 

“I dated her for nearly a year!” he said defensively.

 

“And then she dumped you, and _you kept snogging her_.”

 

“My point is that she and I were never just friends like you and me.” He was swiftly becoming exasperated. Was it so strange that he should want to make sure she knew that he didn’t feel anything more than warm, platonic affection for her? Never mind that it was a terrible lie. But he couldn’t ruin their friendship by confessing: everyone knew that confessing to friends only ever led to disaster.

 

“So relationships can never cha—?”

 

“Why _hello_ Daphne,” said someone behind him, someone familiar, someone who would absolutely not help the situation. “I thought I heard your little voice. Keeping Harry company for me?”

 

Delf’s face went completely blank. “Kelly,” she said coldly. Harry turned to face her as well. She wasn’t in her robes yet, so he had an unobstructed view of her ample breasts struggling to free themselves from the top of her blouse.

 

“Hello, _Harry_ ,” she said, sauntering forward. “How was _your_ holiday?”

 

“Really good,” he replied awkwardly. “Delf and Roderick and I—”

 

“That’s _wonderful_ ,’’ she said sweetly, then slid her hands around his neck and pulled him in to a deep kiss. Harry froze. He didn’t know what Delf’s issue was at the moment, but kissing Kelly was not likely to help any—was that her _tongue_ in his mouth? Before he could unfreeze to pull away, she released him and stepped back. She was smirking broadly, and didn’t seem to be looking at him. “See you _soon_ , Harry.” And she turned on her heel and swept back down the carriage.

 

“You never even _dated_ her,” Delf said scathingly. Harry didn’t want to turn around and see how orange her eyes were, but there was nothing for it. “Did you just skip falling in love and go straight for womanizing?” Yes, they were very orange. But that didn’t make her right.

 

“I’m not womanizing!” he protested. “And I don’t even _like_ Kelly!”

 

“Then why in Merlin’s name are you snogging her?” she cried, throwing her hands up.

 

“Because I keep dr—” He caught himself just in time. ‘Dreaming about you naked’ would not have been a good way to end that sentence. “Because…” But what else was there to say? “I can’t explain it to you.”

 

“Try me,” she challenged.

 

“It’s complicated.” He realized how it would sound as soon as it was out of his mouth, and squeezed his eyes shut.

 

“I understand what tits are.” Her sarcasm was biting.

 

“That’s got nothing to do with anything!” he shouted angrily. “And why do you even care? I can kiss attractive girls if I like.”

 

“Like you kissed me,” she reminded him spitefully.

 

“I was _drunk!_ ”

 

There was a long, furious pause.

 

“I can’t talk to you anymore.” She turned and opened compartment door. Their friends all wore varied looks of guilt and shock, trying to seem as if they hadn’t overheard. “Tracey, we need to go somewhere else,” Delf said, quiet in her anger. Tracey, hiding her shock and confusion well, stood up and followed Delf out of the carriage.

 

“What the hell did you do?” Fred demanded as soon as the echoes of the slammed door had faded. Harry could only shrug helplessly.

 

-o-

 

Inauspicious though the beginning of term was, it hardly got better. He and Tom started their lessons with Remus. He had gotten a new Boggart from somewhere, and the first order of business was figuring out what form it would take for Tom, as he had never faced it in class during the previous term like Harry had. Just as Remus had expected, it was the Dark Lord at full strength. But it was Voldemort as Tom thought of him: he was impossibly tall and wore swirling black robes that hid his face, with white skeletal hands that were more like claws than anything. The only factual feature was his high, maniacal laugh, obviously based on what Tom had heard when the Dementor got to him. But a result of this was that Harry had to be the closest one to the Boggart every time Remus let it out of the chest so that it would become a Dementor, even if Tom was the one trying to repel it, and that rapidly became exhausting. After only the first session, he could recite Voldemort and Grandma Potter’s exchange right down to their voice inflections. And even when it was his turn to face the Dementor/Boggart, the results were frustratingly small. Remus had explained the necessity of having a perfectly happy thought ready when facing Dementors, and all of Harry’s happiest thoughts had to do with Delf and Roderick. But Delf had barely spoken two words to him since their argument on the train, and his complicated feelings about the situation and had a reverberating effect on his whole psyche, and it was remarkably difficult to find an unpolluted happy memory.

 

Not to mention, her comment about him being a womanizer would not leave him alone. Neither meditation nor burying himself under homework let him escape her accusation, and it was near the end of their first week back before he broached the subject with Katie.

 

“Do you feel womanized?”

 

“What?”

 

It was early on the first Saturday of term. He had specifically requested they meet early, since between their Quidditch schedules and him being a Prefect in his OWL year, nearly literally no other time worked.

 

“You know… am I taking advantage of you?”

 

“Of course not.” She sounded confused. “I started this whole…” She gestured between the two of them. “…thing. If anything, I’m taking advantage of you.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Stupid,” she said fondly. “Why are you even thinking that?”

 

“Something Delf said on the train. She hasn’t talked to me in a week, you know.” They were in a disused classroom that had been turned into a sort of spare-things room on the second storey. An old desk that had been the victim of too many botched Transfiguration experiments served them as a bench. They hadn’t even snogged at all, that’s how worried Harry was about the whole thing.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“So you really think I’m alright? Not doing anything wrong, even though it’s you and Kelly both?”

 

“Well… right now I wish I still had girlfriend-influence so I could warn you off her, but since I don’t, no, you’re fine.”

 

He breathed a sigh of deep relief. “That’s good. Want to get breakfast then?”

 

“Yes please.”

 

They compared schedules on the way down to the Great Hall, trying to sort a time when they could next meet, and were tentatively agreeing on Thursday between supper and her Astronomy class when Roderick and the Weasley twins came bounding up the marble staircase towards him.

 

“Harry!” Fred shouted as soon as they saw each other. “Have you heard?”

 

“Heard what?”

 

“Pettigrew broke in again last night,” Roderick said grimly.

 

Harry’s whole body went cold. “Tom?” The word was choked and strangled.

 

“He’s in the Hospital Wing,” George told him. “But he’s fine Harry, he’s there with—” But he was already halfway down the passageway, sprinting full tilt towards the medical centre.

 

There was a curtain blocking a bed near the end of the ward from being viewed from the door, but he could see Hermione and a smudge of red hair and Ron’s shoulder next to her, half hidden by the curtain as well. But he could hear his brother, speaking in a quiet, pained voice, the words coming clear as he moved closer.

 

“…and I woke up, and he was just standing there, this horribly short, ugly man was just standing there, and he had a knife… it was awful…”

 

By then, Harry was at the bed and ripped the curtain aside, fully expecting the worst: Tom bloody and bandaged, Tom deathly pale and shivering, Tom wheezing his last breath, telling his two best friends of the monster who had done him in, a bare dozen years after trying to get his master to do it the first time…

 

It was Ron in the bed. He was asleep, white bandages on his shoulder visible under his half-open pajama shirt. Tom and Hermione sat near the foot of his bed, looking up at Harry with eyes just as startled as his. Completely at a loss, he simply pointed at Ron and demanded, “What?”

 

“I was just telling Hermione,” Tom said in hushed tones, clearly glad of a fresh audience. “I woke up in the wee hours of the morning because I heard something in a dream, so I woke up and he was just standing there, Pettigrew was, between my and Ron’s beds, and he had this great knife, but I couldn’t quite tell what it was at first because I didn’t have my glasses on, but I heard him mumbling to himself, something about how if he killed me then everything would go back to normal and he would he friends with Mum and Dad and Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus again, I think now he was sort of talking himself up to it, but before I knew what was what, he just—he _stabbed_ him, just here.” He pointed to a spot above his left collar bone. “Then I shouted at him, and Ron woke up of course, and that got everyone else’s attention, and Dean and Seamus went for Percy, and he sent Donald Pinkerton for Professor McGonagall, and we got Ron down here, and… well, here we are.”

 

Harry was having trouble with only one part of Tom’s story. “But… why did Pettigrew attack _Ron?”_

 

Tom twirled a lock of dark ginger hair between his fingers. “We think Pettigrew thought he was me. Our hair looks pretty similar in the dark, and we both sleep on our stomachs.”

 

“He was _guessing?_ ” Harry said incredulously, sinking onto the bed behind him. “Merlin…” There was a headache building behind his eyes, and he pinched the bridge of his nose to ward it off. “What happened? How’d he get away?”

 

“Scarpered as soon as I called out,” Tom replied grouchily. “Right coward. I could have caught him.”

 

“Ron had been _stabbed!”_ Hermione protested hysterically. “You were right to stay with him.”

 

“Is he going to be alright?”

 

“Yes,” Tom said. “Madam Pomfrey said he didn’t get anything important, so if everything goes well, he should be out by tonight. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were here earlier. I think they’re up talking to Dumbledore now. What are they going to do, Harry? This is the second time he’s gotten in.”

 

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know.”

 

Apparently Dumbledore did: by the end of the day, James, Lily, and Sirius had moved into the castle for added security.

 

Roderick immediately started laughing when he saw them all up at the teacher’s table that evening at supper. Harry, conversely, wanted to make every effort to sink into his split pea soup. Delf did not react at all and kept demurely spooning up mouthfuls of her supper. Before the meal started, Dumbledore stood and explained that in light of Pettigrew’s repeated invasions, the Head of the Aurors himself and his second-in-command would be staying in the castle until the threat could be properly dealt with.

 

“Why Harry, you don’t look thrilled,” Roderick said, grinning widely. “Whatever could be the matter?”

 

“Sod off,” Harry grumbled, ripping up a slice of bread and dunking it into his bowl.

 

“I thought you got on with your parents now,” his friend commented brightly, reaching for the salt and pepper.

 

“I do,” he replied grouchily. “At _home_. This is school. Parents don’t belong at school, whether they get on with their kids or not.”

 

Roderick chortled at something. “Can you imagine being the child of a professor here?”

 

“I’d rather not,” he replied, smiling a little despite himself.

 

Ron was out of the Hospital Wing by then, and he was holding council with a group of Gryffindors, telling a somewhat embellished version of the story Tom had told Harry that morning. Apparently Tom’s version had been missing the all-important element of personal combat. He heard later that all of the third-year Gryffindor boys had been called in to interview with James and Dumbledore about what they had seen, and it came out that Neville Longbottom had lost his list of passwords, and that’s how Pettigrew had gotten in. He got detention and was forbidden from going to Hogsmeade as punishment. Harry thought that rather unfair, as it was hardly Neville’s fault that Pettigrew had been in the castle in the first place to find the list, but what was he to do about it?

 

Harry tried to stay positive over the next few days. Sure, Prefect duties took up a lot of time he would he liked to use in other ways, and Abigail had instituted a positively devilish Quidditch practice roster. Not to mention, O.W.L.s were creeping closer and stress was mounting quickly. Andrew actually broke down in tears during Transfiguration, and Will had to take him down to the Hospital Wing. As if all of that wasn’t enough to handle, Kelly seemed intent on grabbing up every spare moment of the day, pulling him into closets on their way between classes and dragging him away from meals for a quick snog.

 

Luckily he didn’t have to interact with his parents much. James (who was already Harry Senior again) and Sirius mainly patrolled at night, while Lily seemed to spend most of her time down in the village. The biggest effect his parents’ presence had on his life was that Snape’s temper became nearly dangerous in its volatility. He had thought it was bad when Remus or Sirius alone were teaching, but having three of the Marauders in the castle all at once while another tried to break in was something else again. But even besides any of that, Roderick was homeless and Delf wasn’t talking to him, and those were the biggest stressors in his life. In nearly ten years of friendship, he had never had anything more than a passing spat with either of his friends, and not being on speaking terms with Delf was like suddenly losing a third of his mind. If he thought something would make her laugh, he couldn’t tell her because she would just scowl at him; if he had a question she would know the answer to, she would only shrug. It was awful.

 

So when he found himself in a fifth floor alcove with Katie on Thursday evening, hidden behind an old tapestry depicting several unicorns doing battle against some ravening giants, it was a welcome relief. Katie, still a year behind him, had none of the O.W.L. anxiety he was constantly surrounded by.

 

They had been in the darkness for only a few minutes, just fooling around, not even really snogging, when the tapestry was suddenly ripped aside and they were blinded by wand-light.

 

“Oh,” said a familiar voice. Harry blinked spots out of his vision as James lowered his wand. “It’s the Quidditch player again, is it? Very good. Carry on.” The tapestry swung shut again and they heard James’ footsteps retreating.

 

Harry let his head thud back against the wall. “You can kill me any time you like,” he said. Katie only giggled.

 

-o-

 

The weeks crawled by. Prefect duties, Quidditch practice, and homework were constants. Kelly became yet more stubborn in her pursuit of his free time, and he started avoiding her, which made him feel guilty. Delf persisted in not talking to him. He had learned little tricks that would catch her up though: if they were all studying together and had been quiet for a long time, he would ask an abrupt question, and she would sometimes slip up and answer. But then she would always glare at him and become even stonier than before, and they brought him no satisfaction. So all in all, things weren’t going well.

 

He and Tom continued their lessons with Remus. He chose a new memory of cooking with Tipsy, and had a good deal more success. By the end of four weeks, he could reliably produce a cloud of silky white mist that seemed to confuse and repel the Boggart-Dementor, but still wouldn’t actually driving it away. Remus called it good progress, and it was amongst the few things he found satisfaction in.

 

It was a dim Wednesday in the middle of February when Harry finally produced his first corporeal Patronus. It was his fifth attempt of the evening. Tom was in the corner, clutching a large piece of chocolate. His session had not gone very well: two dozen tries, and he had created a sort of pale mist only three times near the middle.

 

Harry had being making progress using his memories of Tipsy, but he felt he had hit a wall with them. The simple joy of being home with her, in the kitchen, just being happy and uncomplicated, that was powerful, but not overpowering. So he took a short break, munching a corner of chocolate and ruminating. His friends were what made him really happy. That had been an indisputable fact of his life since he was seven. But even if he was able to stop dreaming of Delf—which he wasn’t—she still wasn’t talking to him, and that was enormously troubling, and anything he remembered about them was tainted by his current feelings. Likewise, Roderick’s current situation with his family was very worrisome to him, just as Roderick had always been worried for him when things went bad with his parents, as they had so often in the past.

 

Remus broke his brown study with a quiet statement. “It’s fine if you want to stop of the evening, Harry. You’ve been working very hard.”

 

“No, I’ll do it,” he replied grimly, and stood back up.

 

Remus nodded, and retreated to the back corner with Tom so that he wouldn’t confuse the Boggart. He flicked his wand, and the chest sprang open. Gripping cold attacked him as the familiar hooded shape rose up at him. He had his memory fixed in his mind, and focused hard as the Dementor bore down on him.

 

_“_ _H_ _ello. What’s your name?”_

 

“ _Harry.”_

 

“ _I’m Daphne. Do you want to be friends?”_

 

 _“_ _Expecto patronum!”_ he cried, and something fierce leapt from his wand. He felt the jolt all the way through his shoulder, but the initial shock passed quickly, leaving only a sort of amazement as he took in the magic he had just accomplished.

 

Unlike with his Animagi form, he had had no idea what to expect, and what met his eyes was nothing short of shocking. He was glad to be on good terms with his family again, of course. But a stag? Really?

 

The stag was made of pearly mist, hoof to antler, the latter lowered menacingly at the Dementor, which shrank away towards the trunk it had emerged from. Once it was fully inside, Harry quickly slammed it shut, his Patronus dissipating at the same time.

 

The room was silent for a long moment.

 

“Well,” Tom finally said.

 

“Um,” Harry replied.

 

Remus chuckled. “The teacher in me is extremely impressed with you, Harry. The uncle in me is very proud. The _Marauder_ in me is dying to tell your dad…”

 

That snapped him out of it. “Don’t even think about it, Moony. I don’t prank very often, but when I do, they’re vicious, and there’s no escaping them.”

 

“Noted,” Remus replied, raising his eyebrows at his tone.

 

Harry rounded on his brother. “That goes for you too, Tom. Remember Percy in Egypt? I have resources.”

 

Tom’s jaw fell open. “That was _you_ in Egypt? But Percy acted like your best friend!”

 

“If you like, I can do it to you,” he said, grinning wickedly.

 

Tom held his hands up defensively. “I believe you, but… I sort of don’t though.”

 

“Well.” Harry shrugged. “You’ll just have to wonder then.”

 

“Wait, are you the ones the twins talk about with the Forest thing?” he asked accusingly.

 

“I might be,” he allowed. Tom looked at him expectantly. “I’m not going to tell you what happened, if that’s what you want.”

 

“ _What?_ Whyyyy?” he whined.

 

“Okay, boys,” Remus cut in, laughing a little. “I have essays to grade. You two get on. See you in class.”

 

“Bye Uncle Remus.”

 

“Bye Moony,” Harry said, laughing as well as he and Tom made for the door.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me?” Tom wheedled once they were in the hallway. “Keeping secrets is bad for the health, you know.”

 

“It’s not a secret,” Harry told him cheerfully. “You just don’t know anything about it.”

 

“That’s the same thing!” Tom protested.

 

Harry shrugged, enjoying his brother’s discomfiture.

 

“Rrrrgh!!”

 

-o-

 

Two more weeks passed with no change, until it was a Saturday in the middle of March. The school was buzzing excitedly because that afternoon was the last Quidditch match before the finals, determining who would play Ravenclaw at the end of the year. Harry and Roderick were duly excited, and Harry even went so far as to poke gentle fun at Delf. She was stubbornly maintaining her silent façade, but her eyes would react to whatever she felt whether she spoke or not, and his new game was seeing what he could do to turn them gold. So far, nothing had worked.

 

It was lunch time, only an hour before the match, and the Great Hall was as noisy and boisterous as could be wished for. The other three houses had long since given up any real rivalry with Ravenclaw, but the old Gryffindor/Slytherin grudge was as strong as ever, and Harry was somewhat surprised to find himself eager to watch Tom and Draco do battle, so to speak. He was in the midst of expressing the sentiment as he poured pumpkin juice for himself and his friends, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned in his seat to find his mother standing behind him.

 

“Mum? Hi?”

 

“Hello, sweetheart,” she replied, smiling. “I just had the thought that it might be nice to have a little tea after the game today, to celebrate with Tom if he wins.” She left the second half of that ‘if’ unsaid.

 

“Um… sure,” he replied, more than a little surprised. In an unforeseen bout of tact, his parents had pretty much left him alone, save James’ untimely interruption of him and Katie a few weeks back. There was nothing particularly suspicious about tea, but the timing put him off. He and Tom had each had another Quidditch game before this (both against Hufflepuff, both wins, though it was a close thing in Harry’s case), and his parents hadn’t mentioned tea then. Was there something else they were going to spring on them? Oh Merlin… What if Tom had gone to Dumbledore about not being the Boy Who Lived? After Ron being attacked, he would think it was even more important for the truth to be known. And then Dumbledore would have had to tell his parents…

 

All of this flicked through his mind too quickly to articulate, and by the time he thought of rescinding his agreement, Lily was already gone. He leaned over his plate, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“Roderick, please tell Harry that he’s an absolute idiot for trusting his parents again,” Delf said across the table. Harry looked up. Communication through proxy? That was almost the same as actually talking! Was she finally getting over her mysterious grudge?

 

“I’ll do no such thing,” Roderick retorted. “There’s nothing wrong with letting bygones be bygones. You yourself could take that lesson right now.”

 

She sniffed. “They’re not _bygones_ , to be perfectly precise. They’re still very much present.”

 

“You could talk to me directly instead of through Roderick,” Harry said hopefully, ignoring the rest of what they were talking about.

 

“Roderick, tell him fat chance.”

 

“Fat chance,” Roderick repeated tiredly.

 

“Harry?”

 

When he turned around this time it was Tom at his shoulder, decked out in his crimson and gold Quidditch uniform. His face was grit in an expression of proud determination, which he would probably keep on at least until the end of the game.

 

“What?” Harry said.

 

“I need to borrow your goggles.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It might rain.”

 

Harry peered up at the ceiling of the Hall. It was clear and cloudless: flawless Quidditch conditions. “I doubt it.”

 

“Well, you never know,” Tom retorted.

 

“I could just make your glasses water-resistant.”

 

“Rain could still get in my eyes though. Glasses aren’t goggles.”

 

“I could make your face water-repellent,” Harry offered.

 

Tom didn’t seem to get that it was a joke, even though Roderick chuckled. “That wouldn’t _work_ , Harry. Can I borrow your goggles or not?” 

 

“Just get some spares from Madam Hooch. I’m not running all the way up to the Tower just for my goggles, honestly…”

 

“Well, you could have just said so,” Tom huffed, and stomped off.

 

“Did he seem particularly stressed to you?” Roderick wondered mildly.

 

“He’s playing Slytherin. He’s just nervous.”

 

“Who do you think will win?” Roderick asked, spearing a roast potato from a nearby platter.

 

“I want Gryffindor to win, because I didn’t really get to play Tom last time when the Dementors came. But as for who actually will… I’ve no idea. Competition seems pretty square.”

 

“What would really make if good would be if I were the Hufflepuff Seeker instead of Cedric, so that no matter who was playing, we’d be facing either each other or one of our brothers.”

 

Harry snorted. “A Seeker monopoly? I think Quidditch as we know it would—”

 

“Hello, Harry,” someone purred in his ear, and he felt arms snake down around his chest. His hackles stood up. A lock of honey blonde hair fell across his shoulder. Kelly, of course.

 

“Hi,” he said, trying to sound enthusiastic. At least the word was short enough that she hadn’t been able to cut him off.

 

“I _really_ need your help with something,” she continued, still murmuring. Her lips were so close to his ear that he could feel them brush against the back of it as she spoke. The sensation was unnerving for a number of reasons.

 

He decided to lie. “I was going to go to the game in just—”

 

“It won’t take a _moment_ ,” she implored softly. “Please?”

 

He hesitated. It was true that he was spending much less time with her than he was with Katie, or anyone else. But it was also true that he had never made a real commitment to her, so he shouldn’t feel bad about anything. But he did. “Okay, fine,” he relented and got up. “See you two at the game, yeah?”

 

“Unless you’re dead,” Delf said quietly, and took a sip of pumpkin juice.

 

Harry stared at her in utter shock for a moment, then muttered, “Well… bye then,” rather awkwardly and left the Hall with Kelly. She led him up the marble staircase and along the hall till they came to the stairs to the third storey.

 

“So what do you need help with?” he asked after a while.

 

“It’s just in _here_ ,” she replied, and pulled a door open. He followed her into the room only to discover it was actually a broom closet and that whatever she needed help with had something to do with him snogging her. The door clicked shut behind them and she unceremoniously wound her arms around his neck and pulled herself flush against him. Perhaps she took his shocked rigidity as amazement or encouragement or something because she deepened the kiss abruptly and he found her tongue keeping company with his in his mouth. That was more than a bit slimy and weird, but what happened next put all thought of that out of his head. She unlocked one hand from its visor grip around his shoulders and ran down his arm to his wrist. This she grabbed and lifted until his hand was pressed firmly to her breast. If he thought he was frozen before, he became positively glacial now. She disentangled her tongue from his and pulled a few inches back. In the dim light coming around the door jam, her blue eyes seemed to sparkle. Her breast was warm and squishy through the wool of her sweater.

 

“I have to go to the game,” he croaked nervously.

 

“You can miss a game you’re not even _playing_ in,” she responded coyly. She wiggled closer to him, pressing her hips against his. He shifted uncomfortably, but she had him effectively pinned to the wall. “You could have _all_ of me if you wanted, you know,” she whispered, leaning forward so that her breath warmed his ear. “No one’s _here_. Just _you_ … and _me_ …” Her teeth caught at his earlobe, and something deep in his gut revolted. The hand she didn’t have locked to her chest lashed out ineffectually, smacking against the wall and a few mop handles leaning in the corner. He didn’t know what he was trying to do: find his wand, maybe, or something to beat Kelly away with. The mop handles rattled and clattered as they fell over, but Kelly ignored them completely and recaptured his lips with hers. Before he could remember that his wand was in his dorm, or that hitting a girl would be bad, or even move at all, the door burst open.

 

He had literally never been so glad to see his father before. James, however, had never looked so shocked. Kelly took a slow step back from Harry and dropped his hand, which he quickly snatched away from her… anatomy.

 

“Harry,” James said expressionlessly.

 

Harry said nothing. When James had caught him with Katie, he’d shut the curtain and left them alone. He desperately hoped that wasn’t about to happen again.

 

 _“_ _H_ _i_ , Mr. Potter.” Kelly stepped up in his continued silence. “Are you not going to the—?”

 

But for once her favorite trick worked against her, and James interrupted, saying sternly, “Young lady, I’ll be needing my son now.”

 

Kelly looked taken aback. “Oh.”

 

Harry eagerly stepped out of the closet, clambering over the fallen mop handles even has he tried to right them. He didn’t know what his father would have to say about finding him in multiple different secret places with multiple different girls, but he was confident that whatever it was would be a good deal less discomfiting than what Kelly had been encouraging.

 

“See you _later_ , Harry,” she called after them, and he waved before taking the nearest corner, not caring whether it was the correct way or not. James followed without complaint or correction and they walked for some time in silence.

 

“Believe it or not, I was your age once, Harry.” James sounded unusually severe. The only other time he’d referenced his youth—that awful day at home that Harry kept accidentally thinking about, like right now—James had seemed dreamy and vague. More reminiscent than imparting a moral. Not so now.

 

“I know you were,” he replied, trying to forestall whatever life lesson he was about to receive.

 

“No, listen. Like you, I was the heir to an old, powerful family, and to girls with a certain kind of ambition, that made me a valuable target. Some of them thought that getting involved with me and guilting me over it later would be an effective way to accomplish what they wanted.”

 

Harry thought he knew where this was going.

 

“What did you say that girl’s name was? Middlebrow?” Harry nodded. “An old name. Not particularly prestigious, but proud. I remember her mother. Horrible woman. Sophia, I believe, Sophia Middlebrow. She was four years ahead of me, so she never paid me mind, but I remember she married a man, an eventual Death Eater named Sinclair Wruck.” Harry remembered Kelly’s passing but scornful comment about Donald Pinkerton being a Muggle-born and shivered. “She changed her name back again when Wruck was sent to Azkaban and declared herself a battered wife.  How true that was is none of my concern, but it appears that her daughter inherited every unappealing trait she had to pass on. I’m not going to tell you how to live or who to love, Harry, but watch out for that girl. She may be aiming to become the next Mrs. Potter.”

 

“Dad, we’re fifteen,” he protested.

 

“With barely two years until graduation, I know,” James agreed. “But haven’t you thought about the future? Careers, traveling, anything? Many girls think of husbands first and foremost. I can think of at least who would marry you right now.”

 

“I’m not marrying Kelly,” he said firmly. “And Katie and I… I think it wouldn’t work. We’re too like friends now.”

 

James blinked down at him. “Oh my.”

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing, Harry, nothing. Just remember what I said about that Kelly girl. It may seem like harmless fun to you, and be something else completely to her.”

 

“That’s probably why everyone keeps warning me away from her,” Harry reflected glumly. He wished his friends might have been as forthcoming as his father. He might have listened to them sooner.

 

“Who warned you?”

 

“Um… Katie, Tracey, Amanda, Helen, Alicia, Angelina…”

 

“Oh, Merlin, boy, when more than three girls tell you your lady friend’s trouble, you get out. Hear?”

 

“Yessir,” he replied, more than a little surprised. Was James like this with Tom all the time? Sort of… fatherly? It felt weird.

 

“Come on, we should get down to the Quidditch pitch. Don’t want to miss your brother smashing Slytherin, do we?”

 

The game had already started by the time they arrived, and the score was satisfyingly tilted towards Gryffindor. “Why don’t you come sit with your mum and me?” James suggested just as Harry was about to split of to begin searching for his friends. He hesitated. He didn’t want his friends thinking he’d ditched the match to be with Kelly. But at the same rate, his relationship with his parents was so fragile, and he didn’t want to offend them by blowing them off either.

 

“Okay, sure,” he replied, and was rewarded by James’ pleased smile. He followed his father up the multiple flights of stairs until they came to the teachers’ seats. Snape kept to himself all the way at the back, taking turns watching the game and glaring balefully at the Marauders’ backs. Flitwick had a special raised seat at the end of the front row next to Lee Jordan, who was in the midst of commenting on the speed, agility, and all about spectacularness of Tom’s Firebolt as compared with Draco’s Nimbus 2001. Judging by McGonagall’s loud reprimands, this was not the first time he’d taken such a tangent. His mum and Dumbledore were in the second row, behind them. Sirius, Remus, Professor Sprout, and several others were ranged on the benches above. Harry shuffled into the row behind Dumbledore and his mother and sat down, focusing his attention on the game. A quick count left Gryffindor short a player, and a more careful examination revealed that George was, for some reason, not in. Gryffindor was a solid fifty points up, but only five minutes after Harry arrived, Oliver took a vicious Bludger to the head, expertly aimed by one of the Slytherin Beaters. The Gryffindors booed thunderously as Madam Hooch and Madam Pomfrey hurried to bring him to the side of the pitch. As little as Harry liked Oliver—and he liked him in negative amounts—he wished that hadn’t happened. Gryffindor stood very little chance of winning now, unless Tom got the Snitch in the next two minutes.

 

Unfortunately, that did not come to pass. Slytherin started outscoring Gryffindor by four to one, and the score swiftly rose to four-hundred and fifty to two hundred and seventy, and they had to win by at least a hundred points to make it to the finals. Even if Tom caught the Snitch, they wouldn’t make it. The teams knew it too. The Slytherin Chasers didn’t even try to score anymore; they just bobbled the Quaffle out of reach of Alicia, Angelina and Katie. Not to mention, with one of their Beaters out, they had to be especially watchful for Bludgers.

 

But abruptly, Tom, who had been circling high above the game this whole time (it was easy to see who he studied from), zoomed off across the pitch, swiftly followed by Draco. And yes, there it was, the damned elusive little Snitch was just there by the Gryffindor goal hoops, flitting to and fro without a care in the world.

 

“Oh!” a girl screamed—he thought it was Katie—and he glanced around to see what the matter was. His heart stopped cold on his chest as he saw three tall, dark figures standing on the pitch, looking up at Tom. Someone from the Hufflepuff crowd wailed “Dementors!”, and that was enough to set Harry into action. He grabbed the nearest wand he could see—he thought it might be his mother’s—leapt to his feet, and screamed “ _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ ” He felt the wand resist—who was he, a stranger, a noone, to demand this of a wand that hadn’t chosen him? How _dare_ he? But then it seemed to sense his need, his desperate need to protect everyone, and it bent to his will.

 

Just as in Remus’ office, a jolt went through his arm as something blinding and huge leap from the wand, and he watched with vengeful satisfaction as the glimmering white stag bounded down towards the three figures. But contrary to gliding away as the Boggart had always done, these three Dementors lurched backwards and two of them fell over. The other made if a few stumbling steps before tripping on its robes and falling over as well. He stared down at them stupidly, the borrowed wand hanging from his limp hand.

 

Tom had caught the Snitch in the meantime, and had landed at the far end of the pitch, surrounded by the remainders of his team. There were mixed cheers from the stands: Slytherin had won by one hundred and seventy points, but Tom had still got the Snitch.

 

But the real mystery still lay sprawled on the grass below, separate from the teams or spectators. He turned to his father, who looked absolutely flabbergasted. “This isn’t mine,” he said, and thrust the wand at him. He took it automatically, but called after him as he left.

 

“But Harry, it’s not mine either!”

 

“Well, you’re the adult!” he shouted from the stairwell. “Figure it out!”

 

A large crowd was forming around the two teams at the far end of the pitch, but Harry instead stormed over to the three figures who had pretended to be Dementors, and were still struggling to get out of their oversized robes. As he came upon them, he recognized Crabbe and Goyle, Draco’s favoured cronies, and Todoric Gamp, a spotty boy with a big nose in his own year.

 

“What the bloody hell were you _doing!?”_ he bellowed.

 

“I’ll take care of it from here, Mr. Potter,” a voice said behind him, and none other than Professor McGonagall swept past. She took a moment to draw herself up to her full regal height. Then, “ _Explain yourselves!_ ” she shouted, and Harry smirked.

 

But as the afternoon passed to evening, reality seeped back in. Not only had he relapsed into his old habit of saving Tom when trouble came along, he had done it in front of the whole school again, not to mention his parents. And his Patronus, the stag… he had threatened Tom with mysterious vengeance specifically so that his parents wouldn’t find out about it. And then he had gone and done it in front of them anyway like a proper fool. If he had waited for two seconds to put a logical thought together, he would have realized that none of the tell-tale signs of true Dementors had been present: no cold, no awful pressure on his chest, no feeling that everything good had left the world forever. Just three stupid boys pulling a stupid prank to derail stupid Tom. To add irony to insult, Tom hadn’t even seen them until the game was over, so their ploy wouldn’t have worked even if Harry hadn’t interfered.

 

He knew the his parents would definitely have something to say about the form his Patronus had taken, and that was a large part of the reason he was taking so long to cross the castle to get to his parents’ guest chambers. But he eventually got there, despite his best efforts. He sighed as he stood outside their door, listening to the quiet clink of tea things and murmured voices. Finally, he knocked.

 

“Come in,” Lily’s voice said, and he pushed the door open. His parents’ apartments were on the sixth floor, on the south side of the castle with large windows looking out over the mountains. The main room was mostly a sitting room with a wide, handsome sofa, some hardback chairs, bookshelves, a low table, and so forth. There was a door on each wall, one closed, the other open to reveal a sink and the edge of a toilet.

 

“Hello, sweetheart,” Lily said, dusting her hands free of biscuit crumbs. “Is Tom not with you?”

 

“No,” he replied, still a little dubious about their intentions. His suspicions about Tom spilling the truth to Dumbledore were still very strong in his mind. But they weren’t acting like their worlds had just been turned upside down and shaken vigorously…

 

Fortunately, Tom arrived just then. “Hello Mum,” he said cheerfully. “Hello, Dad. Harry, how nice to see you out of a broom cupboard for once.”

 

The words were out before he could think: “At least I can get a girl in one.”

 

James snorted a surprised laugh.

 

“Harry! Do try to be civil, please,” Lily chided, and James made an effort to discipline his expression.

 

“Sorry,” Harry said, not meaning it.

 

Lily took a seat on the sofa, and each of the men quickly followed her example. James and Harry took two of the hardback chairs while Tom joined Lily on the sofa. She poured the tea and opened the conversation with, “How are you classes going boys?”

 

That more than anything put Harry’s worries at bay. If Dumbledore had told them about him truly being the Boy Who Lived, she would not have begun with something so banal.

 

Tom always had to be the first: “Great!”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

 

“Yesterday in Herbology, I got the answer and Hermione didn’t!” Tom said eagerly. Lily and James raised their eyebrows and smiled politely, but Harry scoffed. He tried to change the sound to make it a cough or something when he became the recipient of several cool glares. “Yes, Harry?” Tom said.

 

Well, if he wanted him to say it… “That probably isn’t true,” he explained with a shrug.

 

“It is so true!” Tom said indignantly.

 

“I know Hermione too, you know.” Tom’s face settled further into a scowl. “She’s a lot smarter than you.”

 

“She’s a lot smarter than you too, you know!”

 

He ignored the looks James and Lily were sending at him, encouraging him to shut up. “In some respects, perhaps. But I am very smart. The Hat didn’t put me in Ravenclaw for nothing.”

 

Tom sipped his tea angrily.

 

James cleared his throat. “Well, that was an exciting game earlier.”

 

“We would have won if Oliver hadn’t taken that Bludger,” Tom said angrily. “Bloody cheating Slytherins!”

 

“What happened to George?” Harry put in. “We arrived after he’d left the game.”

 

“The very same thing,” Tom grumbled. “He whacked one one way and the other got him from behind. Didn’t wake up for three hours.”

 

“I was rooting for you lot,” Harry told him consolingly. “If you’d won, we would have played against each other again, without Dementors this time.”

 

“Firebolt versus Firebolt…” James said dreamily. Harry grinned.

 

“But you’ll still be practicing for the finals, won’t you, Harry?” Lily asked. “How is that going?”

 

“Fine,” he replied evasively.

 

“Oh come now, Harry,” James chortled. “You’ve caught every Snitch you’ve ever played for, including when you were on the verge of unconsciousness because of a Dementor. There must be something you can say.”

 

“I don’t talk about Quidditch when in the presence of players from other teams,” he replied piously.

 

“Oh, please,” Tom snorted. “You were dating Katie for nearly all of last year. Are you telling me you _never_ talked about Quidditch? That must be the only thing you have in common with her!”

 

“That, and _very_ good chemistry,” he said, smiling lecherously. “And as a matter of fact, we never did talk about Quidditch, or at least what our teams were doing.”

 

“Didn’t you two get back together recently?” Lily asked, pouring more tea for herself and Tom.

 

This could get awkward. “Um. Yes and no?”

 

“And how does she fancy her counterpart?” Tom inquired, obviously being too loud on purpose. Harry glared at him.

 

“Counterpart?” Lily repeated curiously.

 

“Nothing Mum,” Harry said quickly.

 

“So…” James said conspiratorially, leaning close to Harry and nudging him with his bony elbow. “A _stag_ , eh?”

 

“I’m not talking about that,” he retorted firmly. “If I had known it was Crabbe and Goyle and stupid Todoric Gamp, I would have Stunned them instead.”

 

In response, James got up and moved a little away from the table. Two heartbeats later, there was a large male deer where the Potter patriarch had been.

 

“Still not talking about it.”

 

James came forward and started chewing on the edge of Harry’s robes, glancing up at him with his big deer eyes as Harry tried to shove him away.

 

“Dad. Dad! Prongs! Gross, get off!” he shouted, laughing despite himself. James returned to his human form not soon after, first harassing his wife and younger son. Getting his antler stuck in the curtain finally persuaded him to give it up, and the rest of the tea passed sedately until curfew set in and the boys had to leave.

 

After their departure, as the tea things were tidying themselves away, Lily, hugging her husband happily, murmured, “We’re earning him back, James! Slowly but surely, we’re earning him back!”

 


	21. The Perils of Love Potions

**Hey all, full disclosure: this chapter has like 5% plot involvement. It’s almost completely ‘for the lulz’ as the youth say. If that’s not your cuppa, I’m including a TL;DR of that 5% at the end so you don’t miss anything for next week.**

 

_The Perils of Love Potions_

 

That Monday, Harry finally got a chance to talk to Roderick about everything his dad had said about Kelly, and girls in general. They were walking down to breakfast alone—they had waited for Delf, but when she didn’t appear after ten minutes, they decided she must have gone down early for some reason.

 

“I only ever agreed to snog her because I thought it would stop her talking for a while,” he explained gloomily. “But she’s acting like we made some kind of commitment, and Saturday… just got really weird. And Dad implied she’s grooming herself to be the next Mrs. Potter, which is far too uncomfortable to think about. And I told him how everyone keeps warning me off her, and he agreed… I don’t know what to do with her. Is breaking up with snog buddies different than with girlfriends? It seems like it would be, but…”

 

“Well, girls usually know more about girls, mate,” Roderick said, shrugging.

 

“Sure, but if I break it off with Kelly, isn’t it only fair to do the same with Katie? I don’t want to though. She’s fine. And how in Merlin’s name do I get Delf to talk to me again?”

 

“I think you’ll have to figure that one out for yourself,” came the reluctant reply. “As much as I want to tell you, she might kill me.”

 

Harry looked at him in confusion. “Why?”

 

Roderick shook his head. “Long story.”

 

They were at the Great Hall by then. The ceiling showed a high blue sky with a few puffy white clouds scudding along before a stiff breeze. Too bad the day began with double Potions in the dungeon.

 

Delf wasn’t at the Ravenclaw table, so they took an empty spot and set about breakfast. Harry had just selected his omelette when the post started arriving. He wasn’t expecting anything: his parents were already and Hogwarts, and they were the only ones he exchanged mail with while at school these days. But to his surprise, a small box plopped down next to his plate. He looked up, but didn’t recognize any of the owls overhead.

 

“Wha’s ‘at?” Roderick asked around a mouthful of beans and bacon.

 

“Dunno,” Harry replied, picking it up and examining it. Shiny red paper covered it and it had a small card affixed to the side. “‘ _You have seemed stressed lately. Please eat these and feel better.’_ Huh. No name.” He tore it open, and saw it had concealed a box of Honeydukes treacle sweets, the same kind he’d bought for Kelly when he met her at Madam Puddifoots. “Oh, nice! I wonder if they knew it’s my favorite?” He popped it open.

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Roderick said, looking at the box dubiously.

 

“What, is someone going to poison me?” He laughed and ate one. “Yum, treacle.”

 

There are some moments in life that are simply too important to take in all at once, and it is imperative at those times to take a small step back and marvel at the change that one simple revelation can make on the whole world. Roderick sat across the table from Harry, in the midst of reaching out to grab the little box of treacle candy from him. Harry didn’t mind. His parents and Sirius were eating breakfast at the staff table. He thought his father and Professor McGonagall might be discussing his performance in class, but he couldn’t be certain. He didn’t mind that either. From the corner of his eye, he saw Delf finally come in to the Great Hall, looking slightly puffy-eyed, like she’d been crying. That he did sort of mind, but there was nothing to be done about it.

 

Because Harry Potter was in love.

 

It was a love so pure and perfect that he wondered how the world had existed until his love came into it. And the object of his love was such a beautiful angel, he felt ashamed for never realizing it before. How was he to tell her? For she had to know, now. And he had to apologize for being such a fool all this time, for not realizing his love sooner. It was the sort of all-encompassing love that descended from on high and suddenly swallowed him whole. It was so obvious! He _had_ to tell her! And there was only one way to do it. A creeping coward might take her aside and wax poetic in the secrecy of some hidden corner, fearful of some cretin scorning his love. Harry was no creeping coward! No, he would declare his love, and let the cretins scorn him! They did not matter. All that mattered was him, and the object of his beautiful, wonderful, perfect love.

 

So he stood up, stood right up on the bench so that the whole of the Hall could see him and would know exactly who this perfect love belonged to, and shouted it, loudly enough for the squid to hear in the Lake and the centaurs to hear in the Forest. The whole _world_ had to know!

 

“I’M IN LOVE WITH LAVENDER BROWN!”

 

The silence that followed seemed full of rapture. It was only natural, of course. Perfect love like Harry’s was a rare and wondrous thing, and deserved the proper respect. He searched longingly along Gryffindor table. He didn’t even know if she was there! So eager he had been to declare his feelings, he hadn’t even thought to make sure the object of them was present.

 

But yes, there she was, nearly directly opposite from him two tables away. Even that small a distance was too much, and he reached his hand toward her longingly. His heart ached at the distance. With his newly discovered love, his vision was clear, and he saw for the first time how beautiful she looked. Her curly dark blonde hair, currently tied in pigtails; her soft brown eyes, currently limpid and bright with joyful tears; her skin, so smooth, so flawless and pale, currently flushed an adorable bright pink. “I love you,” he whispered, starting deep into her eyes.

 

At this point, the entire Hall burst into hysterical laughter.

 

He didn’t mind that either. They were all stupid anyway. He couldn’t expect them to understand the depth and strength of his feelings. Really, it was a defense mechanism so that they wouldn’t feel like the complete loveless plebs they knew they were. He didn’t need them to validate his feelings. The only thing he needed was Lavender.

 

Lavender… had a more perfect word ever existed? The gentle, caressing vowels, the sensual consonants… Laaaaaavvvvvveeeeeeennnnnnderrrrrrrr…

 

He had to go to her. The pain rising in his chest would abate for nothing else. He had to hold her tightly and reassure her that he would never be so stupid again, that from now on she was the only thing that mattered, that he was hers for ever and ever. It was an easy step from the bench up to the table. He put his foot in a platter of sausage, but he didn’t care. Nothing could stand in his way. His love would not allow it.

 

Someone was shouting from the teacher’s table. He couldn’t quite hear who it was over the laughter of the rabble, and he wasn’t listening anyway. The only thing that mattered was to get to Lavender. He stepped down onto the Ravenclaw bench opposite his, the one Roderick still sat on. Roderick’s face was red because he was laughing, and he was crying laughter-tears too. Harry should have known he wouldn’t understand. But maybe he could try and help him…

 

Tearing his gaze away from Lavender caused a nearly physical pain as he turned to look at his friend. “Roderick,” he said. Roderick glanced up at him, still laughing.

 

“Yeh?” he gasped.

 

“This is an amazing feeling,” Harry told him gravely. “You should tell Tracey.”

 

Roderick’s mouth fell open, and he went even redder than before, though Harry wouldn’t have thought it possible. “What—? I—! That—! Harry, Lavender dosed you with _love potion_. You don’t really love her.”

 

He had never seen Roderick with a bloody nose before, but he did not feel a bit bad for causing it, even though it made his fist throb. “DON’T EVER SAY THAT AGAIN, YOU BASTARD!” he screamed. “YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT SHE’S LIKE, HOW PERFECT SHE IS! YOU COULD NEVER UNDERSTAND! YOU AND TRACEY ARE NOTHING LIKE ME AND HER! I LOVE HER! I LOVE HER!” His wand had appeared in his hand, though he didn’t know how it had gotten there. He waved it threateningly in Roderick’s face, watching his grey eyes go very wide, the laughter-tears vanishing.

 

Just then, two sets of strong hands grabbed hold of his arms and lifted him bodily from the floor. “Hey!” he shouted. “Put me down! I need to get to Lavender! _Lavender!_ ” But despite his protests and poor attempts to kick the legs of whoever held him, they carried him inexorably forward towards the teacher’s table.

 

“Lavender’s coming too!” one of them shouted in his ear, identifying himself as one of the Ravenclaw Beaters, Chet. Harry relaxed. They could be taking him to Azkaban and he wouldn’t care. No Dementor could harm him when he had such love burning inside him. He would create the strongest Patronus the world had ever seen and protect the both of them forever.

 

The Great Hall still sounded like the orange juice had been laced with laughing potion, except for the teachers, most of who looked as if Pettigrew had broken in again. Dumbledore ushered them towards a door to the right of the teachers table, and Chet and the other—Chaz, he now saw—released him into the custody of his father and Remus. Sirius still sat at the table, clutching his stomach and shaking with mirth. He and Roderick continued to share their inscrutable sense of humor. His mother hovered nearby, looking both concerned and furious, which was an interesting combination.

 

But none of that interested him. He craned his head around and caught a glimpse of Lavender following a short distance behind him, escorted by the furious-looking Professor McGonagall, and Roderick (holding his bloody nose), Delf and Tom trailed behind her with varied expressions. Poor Lavender looked like she wanted to burst into tears! His heart broke for her.

 

“Lavender!” he called, beginning to struggle anew in his father and uncle’s grasps. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine! We can just explain. You know I love you!” Then James and Remus dragged him into the antechamber and he briefly lost sight of her. “Let go of me,” he begged. “Don’t you know how cruel you’re being? We were born to be together, can’t you see that? She’s perfect for me!” But far from releasing him, his father simply forced him down into a chair and kept a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from getting up. The small chamber soon filled with people: Harry himself; his whole family including his laughing godfather and Uncle Remus; Roderick and Delf, whose eyes were flickering between orange and black; Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick and Snape held a tense conference in the corner; and Lavender, the only one who mattered… There were really no words for how perfect she was, he realized as he regarded her. Even pinched and anxious as she currently looked, she seemed to radiate light and joy towards him. And when she glanced at him and saw him smiling at her, she blushed prettily and ducked her head shyly. He longed to reach out and clasp her close against him, to reassure her that nothing and no one could harm them, not with their love as armor and sword.

 

“Dumbledore,” James called out suddenly. “I insist some action be taken here. Having this happen to Harry is intolerable.”

 

“He hit me in the face,” Roderick added indistinctly. “Me!” He had gotten a large handkerchief from somewhere and had it wadded up against his nose.

 

“And what if it hadn’t been something so benign?” Professor Flitwick squeaked. “She could have poisoned him!”

 

Harry didn’t give two Knuts for any of what they were talking about, but he hoped they would finish soon so that he could spend time with Lavender. What cruel author of fate had put them in separate years! Perhaps they were right: he _should_ have gone to Gryffindor. Then at least they could spend every moment not wasted on classes together.

 

Snape spoke up. “May I suggest, Headmaster, that we expel Miss Brown? Her actions—”

 

“NO!” Harry exploded. He tried to leap up, intending to claw Snape in the face, only to have Remus and his father force him back down. “You can’t expel her! We’re in love! We’re supposed to be together forever!”

 

Delf crumpled down onto an ottoman and started crying. Roderick patted her shoulder consolingly.

 

Snape looked down at Harry, his expression part amusement, part surprise and part simmering anger. “Headmaster, Miss Brown’s behavior constitutes a blatant disregard for proper conduct, let alone the rules of this school. As is clearly written, it is directly against the bylaws to administer any kind of potion without the drinker’s knowledge and permission unless in the case of a grave medical situation. As I seem to recall, Mr. Potter was happily enjoying breakfast just before he made his abrupt declaration.”

 

“I agree with Sev!” Lily said stridently. Harry was glad of the silence that followed: nothing distracted him from his admiration of Lavender.

 

“Expulsion is a little severe for the situation, I think,” Dumbledore interjected mildly. “Minerva, as her head of House, how would you like to proceed?”

 

McGonagall stared stonily down her nose at Lavender, which Harry resented. Lavender went pale, but held the Deputy Headmistress’ gaze, even though her chin trembled. He admired her bravery… but he wanted Lavender to look at _him_.

 

“Miss Brown, do you admit to procuring or creating a love potion and giving it to Potter without his knowledge or permission?”

 

A sharp pain lodged in his chest as Lavender slowly nodded. “No, Lavender,” he cried. “Don’t lie! We shouldn’t have to conform to their expectations! We can endure anything as long as we stay true to each other!”

 

“Fifty points from Gryffindor.” McGonagall’s voice was pained and regretful as she docked her own House. “You will receive detention next Friday evening, and are banned from going to Hogsmeade for the rest of the year.” Lavender nodded mutely. “You are dismissed to go to class.” She scurried out. A lump formed in Harry’s throat. He had never been away from Lavender before… not since he’d realized how much he loved her, anyway. How in the world had he lived before now? Had he never seen before how any room without her in it became dank and dim? How her simple smile warmed him better that Butterbeer? That without her, his soul went sick and dark…?

 

“Yes, shouldn’t you others be in class as well?” Dumbledore said genially. Harry didn’t even have the energy to hate him. Lavender’s disappearance had left him hollow inside.

 

“Harry can’t go to class like this,” Lily objected. “Look at him: he can’t put two thoughts together right now that don’t have to do with that girl.”

 

“Lavender,” he corrected dully. “That’s her name, Mum. You should get used to saying it. She’s going to be in my life for a long time.”

 

“Are you sure we can’t keep him like this?” Sirius said hopefully. “Nothing this funny has happened since…. Hell, ever!”

 

“Sirius!” Lily admonished.

 

“You know, he’s supposed to have double Potions with us right now,” Roderick piped up. Sirius had stopped laughing long enough to fix his nose and he was wiping the last of the blood off. “And since I’m guessing Professor Snape doesn’t keep antidotes for love potions on hand, right?”

 

Snape nodded acknowledgement.

 

“We could all brew them in class. Love potions can last for days sometimes, right? This way he’ll be back to normal by lunch.”

 

“Nothing will ever be normal again,” Harry countered. “The day loving Lavender no longer feels special is the day I take my own life.” He couldn’t understand why everyone looked so shocked. But then he remembered: none of them had ever experienced love as fierce and wonderful as his. He probably sounded like a madman to them. He didn’t care though. He knew the true depth of passion in his heart could never be shaken.

 

“He may not stay like this,” James declared. “Roderick’s suggestion is an excellent one.”

 

“You want to turn our son into a Potions experiment?” Lily said shrilly. “What if they get it wrong?”

 

“Perhaps a practical lesson is exactly what the class needs,” Snape suggested warily. “Your son’s current state is an excellent example of abused potioneering, something that only truly becomes real with a live demonstration. And I shall brew a batch myself to ensure an effective antidote exists for him to take.”

 

“I want to be there,” Lily said immediately. “I want to make sure the antidote is perfect.”

 

Snape looked uncomfortable. “You know I’m more than capable of—”

 

“I’m going to be there,” she snapped, and that ended the discussion.

 

“Wonderful!” Dumbledore clapped his hands together smartly. “If you hurry, you won’t even be late! Chop chop, everyone!”

 

James and Remus moved to lift Harry from his seat, but he stayed limp: anything not involving Lavender held less than zero interest for him.

 

“Come on, Harry,” Roderick encouraged. “Haven’t you heard? Lavender is, er, so good at Potions that she’s having class with us today. Let’s go to the dungeons and meet her.”

 

A smile ignited on his face. “ _Really?_ ”

 

Roderick shook his head. “Yes, absolutely.”

 

“She’s skipping Transfiguration and Divination?”

 

“How in the world did you know—? That is, yes, she’s so advanced that she’s allowed to skip.” Professor McGonagall looked like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to be offended or amused.

 

But Harry didn’t care about that. He leapt up from the chair and started for the door. “Why didn’t you say something before? Come on, let’s go!”

 

He led the group to the dungeons, setting a quick pace. Delf and his mother hovered close at his shoulders, Roderick and Snape trailing not far behind. The class stilled as the group came down the last stairs, every eye fixed on Harry. He looked back, seeing Andrew and Lawrence grinning broadly, seeing Kelly looking furious about something, seeing their Hufflepuff classmates looking curious and amused. But none of that mattered. He only wanted to see one face, one beautiful, flawless face.

 

“Where is she?” he asked, becoming dismayed at Lavender’s absence. He turned to his friend, barely noting the dried blood still smeared across his cheek. “Where is she? You told me she would be here.”

 

“Well, you see, she, um, she’s in another room. For class. Because… she… didn’t want to be distracted. She takes potions very seriously. You’ll see her after, I promise.”

 

Relief flooded through him. “Oh, good.” He chuckled. “For a second there, I almost thought you were lying to me.”

 

Roderick’s gaze flickered sideways. “Ha ha… don’t be stupid.”

 

“In,” Snape barked, and the door to the dungeon flew open. The class filed in, their postures full of muted excitement, a feeling almost unheard of in relation to Potions class. Harry came in at the rear, flanked by his friends and mother as Snape took his position at the front of the room. “Today we will be diverging from the planned curriculum due to an event you all doubtless witness this morning at breakfast.” A wave of sniggers swept the class. “Quiet. Despite the hilarity you apparently find in the situation, it would be difficult to find a more dangerous scenario. Who can give us a few short words about Mr. Potter’s personality as he is normally?” He began pacing back and forth in front of the chalk board.

 

“Nice,” someone piped up from the back.

 

“Funny,” Lawrence suggested.

 

“Doesn’t usually punch his friends,” said Andrew, and Roderick nodded emphatically.

 

“Caring and attentive,” Kelly put in.

 

“Tasteless,” Delf snapped, and Kelly scowled at her.

 

“Practical and level-headed, usually,” Roderick contributed.

 

“Fine,” the Potions Master responded. “And how would you describe him now?”

 

“Barmy!” Will called.

 

“Smitten,” Beverly added.

 

“Hilarious,” said Ben Folger.

 

“Totally bloody stupid,” Delf said coldly. She and Roderick were sitting front and center, and she leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed. Her eyes glittered orange.

 

“Well…” Lily started to disagree, but seemed to think better of it. She and Harry were off to the left of the chalk board, seated on a pair of slightly rickety stools she had collected from a closet.

 

“Yes,” Snape agreed with the class’ assessment. “Who can give me an example of the sort of magic that could produce such a change in personality?”

 

“A Confundus Charm?” said Jenny Masters tentatively.

 

“No, an Imperius Curse,” Walden Smokes disagreed.

 

“They’re illegal!” Will protested.

 

“Doesn’t mean people don’t use them,” Daniel Northrug countered. “During the War, my uncle—”

 

“And who can tell me what will cause him to change in such a way without direct coercion?” The teacher’s question stilled the class.

 

“A love potion,” Delf finally responded, sounding bitter.

 

“Precisely,” Snape agreed. “Do you begin to understand the—”

 

“You should give points,” Lily cut in.

 

Snape looked irritated while the class looked thunderstruck. “What?”

 

“They gave you a series of very good answers. I’d say fifteen points per House.”

 

“I’m trying to teach, Lily—”

 

“Part of teaching is giving appropriate rewards. Come on?”

 

Every single student stared, open-mouthed, as the Potions Masters started speaking, stopped, adopted a pained look, then sighed. “Fifteen points to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.”

 

Someone at the back of the room cheered, and Snape scowled his famous scowl. “Ten points from the same Houses.” Everyone muffled their disappointment for fear of losing more points. Harry started growing impatient. He had come down for the express purpose of seeing Lavender, yet now he found himself stuck in stupid Potions class and he wasn’t even taking part in the lesson.

 

“Follow the instructions on the board,” Snape told the class. The chalk leapt into the air behind him and started scribbling lists of ingredients and the recipe they were to follow. Lily giggled into her hand as the class dispersed to set up their cauldrons and collect ingredients from the supply closet. Harry looked over at her. He still wasn’t interested, but perhaps she could distract him from his pain at Lavender’s absence.

 

“What is it, Mum?”

 

“It’s Sev… He just sounds so… teacherly.”

 

Delf and Roderick, who had taken the work station closest to where Harry and his mother sat, startled badly. “ _Sev?_ ” Delf hissed to Roderick, helping him hastily mop up the castor oil he had spilled.

 

Lily heard, and turned to them, smiling. “Short for Severus. We were friends at Hogwarts. He and I and Harry’s father were all in the same year.”

 

Harry glanced at the Potions Master, halfway in the back of the room helping Bethany Dell and Nina Rose with their Wiggentree twigs, which were particularly energetic for some reason. He knew Snape had hated the Marauders while at Hogwarts, which had been a mutual feeling. He also knew that his father and Sirius sometimes poked fun at his mum for having been friendly with him, but whenever they did, she would simply raise her nose and ignore them. He had never heard her speak of him, let alone in a kindly way.

 

“We… grew apart in fifth year though,” she continued. “And I started dating James not long after.… I’ve always regretted… the way things ended. We were such good friends.” Her expression was quite dark as she said this though.

 

Delf and Roderick glanced at each other, their looks full of private communication, then went back to reducing their Gurdyroot extract. Harry’s attention wandered after that. As interesting as he found his mother’s personal history, there were many more important things to think about. Well, only one really: Lavender. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that someone so perfect, so beautiful and intelligent and sweet and kind and harmless, had been right in front of him for nearly three years without catching his notice. Had he been willfully blind? He cast his mind back, searching out each tiny clue he must have missed. He remembered the evening of her Sorting with vivid clarity. He had been so anxious over Tom’s placement, he hadn’t even realized that the most important person in the Great Hall—no, the world!—had already been sent to Gryffindor ahead of him. A wave of sick jealousy of Tom swept over him. He had never felt such a thing towards his brother before, and it made him very uneasy.

 

But other things quickly distracted him: many things that had happened this year were very interesting and induced a great deal of guilt. Hagrid’s first Care of Magical Creatures class, for instance, which he had visited to support his friend. Not only had he been standing in the same area as her, she had actually spoken to him! What could have possibly prevented him from hearing the gentle music in her voice, seeing the aching beauty in her eyes, embracing the perfection sent to earth for him to love? She had even appeared to faint when he got in between Draco and Buckbeak. What selfish impulse had led him to go to the Hospital Wing rather than rush to her side to reassure himself of her safety? He cursed himself for his stupidity.

 

And then in Hogsmeade… he wanted to weep and beat himself for his treatment of her. His carelessness in turning the corner at such a speed! His callus dismissal of her afterwards! He should have fallen to his knees and begged for her forgiveness! Instead he had rushed off to meet Kelly Middlebrow… Hogwarts had never seen such a fool as Harry Potter.

 

The minutes dragged by. Harry did little but ruminate on Lavender’s loveliness and berate himself for never noticing it sooner. The Potions students seemed more interested in the lesson than usual, and he wondered again why he wasn’t participating. He could have been Lavender’s partner. They had her working somewhere all alone with no company… and even an extraordinarily brilliant third year like her would have _some_ trouble with a fifth year potion. Harry could help her! He could woo her too, because he had made the somewhat embarrassing realization that even though his love for her felt so huge and indomitable, he had not ascertained that she felt the same way.

 

He had just formulated a plan to sneak away and find her when someone touched his arm. He looked up. Snape stood in front of him, a look of great anticipation on his face. Most of the class clustered behind him, wearing identical expressions. Harry felt unnerved. “Yes, Professor?”

 

“Drink this.” Snape extended a vial filled with red liquid.

 

“Why?” he asked suspiciously.

 

“You’ll see Miss Brown if you do.”

 

Harry grabbed the potion and finished it in two swallows.

 

He handed the vial back to Snape and stood up, ready to make for the door and find Lavender to woo her and win her and love her and…

 

His steps slowed.

 

He had to find Lavender to…

 

He came to a halt.

 

Lavender Brown had given him a love potion.

 

He turned around.

 

His classmates were arrayed in a semi-circle behind him, nearly every one of them grinning enormously. Notable exceptions were Delf, Kelly, his mother, and Snape who looked darkly pleased, vengeful, concerned, and merely interested, respectively.

 

 _I’M IN LOVE WITH LAVENDER BROWN!_ The phrase ran through his mind with painfully embarrassing clarity. His mood turned from confusion to horror.

 

“That happened in front of the whole school, didn’t it?”

 

“Yep,” said Roderick, who then started laughing so hard that he had to sit down. That seemed to be the cue for the rest of the class to start howling with mirth as well, and he had to endure several minutes of cacophony at his pride’s expense before everyone settled down.

 

“It was the single funniest thing to happen this year, bar none,” Lawrence told him, wiping tears from his eyes. He was part of the crowd that had formed around Harry, made up entirely of laughing classmates. Lily and Snape were still over by the chalk board, speaking quietly. “This’ll go down in Hogwarts history, mark my words.”

 

Harry groaned. “Right in the middle of breakfast… Merlin… And Roderick, I hit you!”

 

“I noticed that, believe it or not,” his friend replied, grinning somewhat impishly.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he said seriously.

 

Roderick waved it away. “I knew it wasn’t you, really. A little treacle and love potion with your breakfast can do strange things to a man.”

 

“And _I_ , for one, am _appalled!_ ” Kelly shrilled, pushing between the Yang sisters to stand beside Harry. “How _dare_ she do that to you!?” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “You see, this is _exactly_ what I’ve _afraid_ of. You’re too _attractive_. Girls think that that since you don’t have a _girlfriend,_ the first one to snatch you _up_ will _own_ you. If you had someone _beside_ you, those _other_ girls would know to stay _away_. What you _need_ is—”

 

“I think I _need_ to stop you there,” Harry interjected firmly. Her fingers tightened into claws on his bicep. “After what just happened to me, I’m definitely not looking for a girlfriend, or… anything. In fact, whatever we are… it needs to stop now. We’re done.”

 

Her arms uncoiled from his shoulders. “Are you _dumping_ me!?”

 

He met her eyes squarely, bright green locking on dark blue. “Yes.”

 

Her mouth worked soundlessly for a long moment until she burst out, “You don’t _do_ that to me!”

 

“I think he just did,” Delf said sweetly, sliding smoothly between Harry and the irate Kelly. “And I, for one, think you’d better listen to him. Wouldn’t want things to turn ugly, now, would we?”

 

Kelly glared at her icily. But before things could erupt into a full-out argument, Harry called out, “Professor Snape, can we be dismissed, please? I think class is over anyway.”

 

Snape glanced at a small timepiece on his desk, and called over the assembled students, “Clear away your work stations. Write twelve inches on the perils of love potions for Thursday. Dismissed.”

 

“Give points, Sev,” Lily encouraged. “Daphne’s antidote worked wonders, after all.” Harry looked up.

 

Snape gritted his teeth. “Five points to Daphne Greengrass.”

 

Harry turned to Delf. “I took your potion?”

 

She shrugged. “It had to be someone’s.”

 

“Sure, but… thank you. That was the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

 

“Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” she returned sharply, and moved to put her leftover Wiggentree twigs away.

 

They left the dungeon shortly thereafter and returned to Ravenclaw Tower to put their things away before lunch. Harry kept Delf and Roderick close beside him the whole way. He didn’t know if he was afraid of some random girl charging at him with a love potion, but their presence—particularly Delf’s—kept him relatively calm. When they got to the dorms, he went right up to the boys’ room and burrowed deep under his duvet, ignoring the chuckles of Roderick, Lawrence and Will. He decided to make Andrew his new best friend because he didn’t laugh.

 

“I’m staying here from now on,” he announced. “I’m not coming out till everyone’s forgotten about this morning.”

 

“That’ll be once the current first years have graduated,” Will replied.

 

“Aren’t you hungry?” Roderick asked over the sounds of Lawrence dropping his cauldron into his trunk.

 

“No.” His stomach loudly corrected him, and he remembered that he hadn’t eaten anything that day but love potion-y treacle and the antidote. He sighed and sat up, causing the sheet to slide down to the floor. “Yes. Why does food have to be an exception to Gamp’s Law?”

 

“You’ll have to take that one up with McGonagall,” said Roderick. “Come on, I’m starving.”

 

So down they went, collecting Delf on their way through the common room. Harry stumped along between Delf and Roderick, trying to ignore the giggles that followed him down the hall. He didn’t like to think how long it would take for all of this to die down, but he suspected he would be living with it at least for the rest of the year. He shared this assessment with Delf and Roderick, only for Roderick to laugh and correct him: “The rest of the year, sure, no problem; but then there’ll be a revival at the beginning of next year, and probably seventh too. I wouldn’t plan on getting rid of this too fast.” Harry simply groaned.

 

It only got worse once they got to the Great Hall, and Harry belatedly realized that he should have just gone to the kitchens. Every second person pointed at him and turned to whisper and laugh with their neighbors. He already felt sick of this new notoriety. He plopped down at the very end of the Ravenclaw table, the better to make a fast escape at the end of the meal.

 

“Delf, I need you to protect me from now on,” he said as food appeared on the platters. “That can never happen again.”

 

“What, should I be your food tester from now on?” she asked teasingly.

 

Roderick snorted. “I can see it now: Delf stands up in the middle of a meal and announces her undying love for some random girl.” Harry laughed in spite of himself and dug into his lamb chop. They didn’t speak again for a time, until Roderick abruptly stood up and murmured “Just a second.” Then he walked away.

 

Harry looked around in confusion, still chewing. “Where’d he go?”

 

“I’ll give you three guesses, and the hint that Tracey just came in,” Delf said pertly.

 

“Oh.” _You should tell Tracey._ “Oh! Merlin, did that love potion just turn off my common sense?”

 

“Yes, and added an obsession with Lavender Brown.”

 

He buried his face in his hands. “Ugh, first I out him to Tracey, then I hit him in the face… oh, that reminds me!” He got up, sliding off the edge of the bench.

 

“What does hitting him in the face remind you of?”

 

“I have to talk to Katie.” He scanned along Gryffindor table, searching out the usual knot of Chasers. He saw Percy… Tallulah and Madison, two girls in his year… there were Tom, Ron and Hermione… and there she was, facing away from him, talking with Angelina and Alicia.

 

“So I’m just supposed to sit here by myself?”

 

“Just for a second,” he called over his shoulder, and hurried off towards the Gryffindors. Alicia and Angelina saw him first, and they both grinned and giggled. He went hot with embarrassment. If the rest of the year went like this, he’d definitely be quitting school. Their reactions made Katie turn around, and he saw her fight amusement too.

 

“Hi,” she said, forcing her expression into one of compassionate concern. “How are you, um, feeling?”

 

“Less romantic than this morning,” he replied ruefully. “Listen, about that… could I talk to you for a moment?”

 

“Sure,” she said, looking at him expectantly.

 

“Um… outside, preferably.”

 

“If you’re breaking up with me, or whatever snog buddies do, you don’t need to take me away from my lunch.”

 

He blinked. “Well… I am. So stay there, I guess.”

 

“I don’t blame you,” she said compassionately. “If someone random gave me a love potion for breakfast, I’d want a break from romance and everything too.”

 

“You’re a good deal more understanding than Kelly,” he chuckled, then glanced around guiltily. “I mean… you know.”

 

“I do,” she agreed. “Well, if that’s that, I’ll see you around, I expect.”

 

“Sure,” he replied, vastly relieved. “Thanks, for, you know, being cool about it.”

 

She waved him away. “Go sit with Daphne. I think she misses you.”

 

He chortled and returned to his seat. “That was fast,” Delf noted, her voice curiously devoid of inflection.

 

“I told you it would only be a second. I broke it off with Katie, if that’s what you do with snog-buddies.”

 

“Oh.” She seemed to perk up after that. Her eyes turned more golden, at any rate.

 

Roderick returned soon after, looking enormously pleased with himself. “So?” Harry inquired, grinning.

 

“She said yes,” he said proudly. “We’re going to Hogsmeade together next time, as a real date. We’re going to wander around and do stupid datey things and have fun.”

 

“Finally!” Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “You two have been making lovey faces at each other for far too long now.”

 

“You’re telling _me_ ‘finally’?” Roderick sounded incredulous. “There’s the pot calling the cauldron black!”

 

“What do you mean?” Harry demanded, but just then Delf enacted an impressive boarding house reach and knocked Roderick’s juice over onto his plate and lap. By the time Roderick stopped cursing and they’d tidied everything up, lunch had ended and they went off to the Library to start their Potions assignment. Harry knew he would get an O on this essay.

  



	22. Wormtail

_Wormtail_

 

Having Delf back made everything perfect. Everything seemed to get easier with her around. True, he developed a slightly irrational fear of sweets, and third year Gryffindor girls named Lavender Brown. He took to walking around with Delf in front of him, steering her by the shoulders. She accepted this with unusual equanimity. In fact, she seemed downright pleased by the arrangement. Roderick started calling her Harry’s ‘girl shield’ which the rest of the dorm quickly picked up, as well as Fred and George.

 

But even with Delf back, there were still things to be stressed over. O.W.L.s were approaching scarily fast. With them looming only a month away, the entirety of the fifth year class hung from wires of anxiety. Andrew wasn’t the last to break down crying from stress, and a persistent trickle of fifth years going down to the Hospital Wing for Calming Concoctions developed. Some teachers were more understanding than others, of course. McGonagall would reluctantly let go those who actually burst out crying, while Binns just ignored them, and Sprout was actively supportive and helpful.

 

Something interesting happened in Potions however.

 

After The Love Potion Thing, as it came to be called around the school (it wasn’t like there were very many to mix up), Lily began helping in class on a regular basis. Several students found their skills, and subsequently their marks, substantially improved by this development, but that wasn’t the only side-effect: she kept Snape in check. Harry had heard from older classmates that Snape liked to ratchet up the difficulty level on classwork specifically to see how much they could take. None of that occurred this year. Lily made people look forward to Potions class, incredible though that seemed. She would encourage those who needed encouragement, gently chastise others, and tell endless funny anecdotes about her days as a Potions student under a man named Slughorn. For all of these, she would refer back to Snape for support or agreement, and he, with looks of utmost discomfort, would concur with whatever she said. She called him Sev every time. Because of her ability to control the reputably (and worthily so) ornery Potions Master, she became known around Hogwarts as the Snape Charmer.

 

“I never really thought when my parents came to live here, that _they’d_ be the ones called names,” Harry admitted to Delf one warm Wednesday afternoon midway through April. They were working on essays about Invigoration Draughts, without any of the implied vigor. Roderick was meeting with Flitwick to go over career preferences. Harry was next. In the meantime, he and Delf had a secluded corner in the library, parchment askew on the desk.

 

“I never thought you’d accept it so easily,” she replied, thumbing randomly through Harry’s potions book (she’d forgotten hers). Ever since the Love Potion Thing, her eyes had settled into a deep, burnished gold, like honey in sunlight. Admiring them, Harry thought back to the big fight with his parents at the end of the last summer holiday. He’d said his favorite colour was what Delf’s eyes looked like when she was happy, but now he realized all over again that it was the truth. “I mean, you say you’re getting on and everything these days, but honestly, parents at school. Even I would be mortified.” She smiled, a little lopsidedly since her chin rested in her palm, but her hair tumbled around her face in the most appealing way, and her eyes were so gorgeous and she was so close…

 

“Well, it’s not like I _want_ them here,” he admitted, looking away. They had the window open next to them, and the breeze wafted through his hair in a most refreshing way. He’d let it out of its usual tail and it wasn’t even sticking up in too many directions. “It’s weird to have to worry about running into Dad when I turn a corner, and even Uncle Sirius being back is strange. And Mum in class…” He heaved a deep sigh. “Extra weird.”

 

“Is this the Discuss Harry’s Parents Table?” asked Fred cheerfully, coming around a shelf, closely followed by his twin, Roderick, and Tracey.

 

“Flitwick’s expecting you,” Roderick said, grinning down at them. Ever since he and Tracey formalized their relationship, he’d worn nearly no other expression than a smile.

 

“We’re here to escort you,” George explained. “We’re bored. Come on: entertain us.”

 

“How can I refuse when you ask so nicely?” Harry said wryly, standing.

 

“I’ll go with you,” Delf said, standing up as well. Tracey smirked. Harry wondered why.

 

“Of course, Harry’s girl shield won’t stand to be left behind,” Fred agreed. Roderick chortled. The long-past feeling of being surrounded by a conspiracy engulfed Harry again.

 

“Let’s just go,” he said impatiently, brushing between the twins on the way towards the door. “Bye Tracey, bye Roderick.”

 

“Later, mate!” Roderick called after him, accompanied by Tracey’s laughter.

 

“Their children are going to be blonde laughter-machines,” he muttered.

 

“Correct,” Fred and George agreed simultaneously.

 

“And one’ll be a nerdy Ravenclaw and one a sneaky Slytherin and the world will be right in all things,” Fred continued.

 

“But neither will be amazing Gryffindors like us,” George interrupted, slapping his twin on the shoulder.

 

“Amazing Gryffindors who are very bored these days because all their friends are off being reclusive studiers like tests matter or something,” Fred groused.

 

“Are you two even studying for O.W.L.s?” Delf asked skeptically as they trotted up a staircase.

 

“Not a bit,” they chorused proudly.

 

“We’re going to get all ‘E’s just for showing up,” Fred explained with a cocky grin.

 

“Besides,” George added. “If we don’t know it by now, we’re not going to learn it.”

 

Thus provoked, Delf launched into a several-minute long lecture on the importance of O.W.L.s for their futures, in which Harry found himself referenced much more frequently than he expected. Apparently, they should follow his example so that they could do well in the world like he would and contribute something to society like he would and not be forgotten in obscurity like he wouldn’t. She had quite a lot to say on the subject, actually.

 

“You know,” Fred eventually interrupted, addressing himself to Harry. “Having your parents at school has given us some interesting research opportunities, and we’ve decided that even though you look exactly like Harry Senior, you’ve got much more of the Snape Charmer’s personality.”

 

Harry frowned across at him, puzzled. “Like Mum? What do you mean?”

 

“Oh, you know. You’re nice to just about anyone, and you’re popular, but you’ve got this one _really dedicated friend…”_

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

On his other side, Delf snorted a bitter laugh.

 

“What?” he demanded.

 

“Nothing, Harry,” she sighed, eyes averted.

 

They were nearing Flitwick’s office by then, and the twins peeled off to find something more interesting.

 

“Well, I’ll come find you after my meeting here,” he told Delf just outside the office door.

 

“Sure. I have to meet with him too.”

 

“Ok then.”

 

“Alright.”

 

“Great.”

 

They stood stiffly across from one another. Harry fidgeted with a loose thread on his cuff.

 

“Bye,” she said at last and hurried back down the hall.

 

“Bye,” he called after her, but she was already too far away to hear. “Dammit dammit dammit!” He raked his hand through his hair in frustration. He’d done such a good job of keeping things relaxed and platonic between them! After kissing her on New Years and their subsequent fight, he considered it of prime importance to keep their friendship stable. And that did _not_ include awkward silences and botched goodbyes! He had to do better! He had to kill these feelings before they ruined his life.

 

Drawing himself up straight, he knocked on Flitwick’s office door, and entered when he heard his Head of House acknowledge him. He’d been in Flitwick’s office a couple times before: once in first year when he got in a terrible yelling fit with Declan Vaughn and Flitwick had wanted to ensure nothing worse would come of it, and another time to clarify the homework in second year. It hadn’t changed much since then: shelves lined the walls, books and knickknacks warping some of them down with their weight. Flitwick’s desk sat at the end of the room, facing away from the big picture window with its view of the mountains. Professor Flitwick himself perched behind it on his customary tall bench, surrounded by books and papers and whatnot. He beamed happily when Harry came in.

 

“Ah, my star pupil! Come in, dear boy, come in. Do sit down.”

 

Harry stifled a smile as he obeyed. Flitwick was the most unanimously liked Head of House at Hogwarts, though Cedric stubbornly persisted that Sprout was the best. Of course he was wrong.

 

“Now,” Flitwick began cheerfully. “As you no-doubt know, your marks have consistently been some of the highest in your year, and I’m certain your O.W.L.s will be flawless. So your career options will only be limited by your own preferences. Quidditch star, Auror, professor, Minister for Magic…” He tittered. “Anything’s an option for you, dear boy.”

 

Somewhat embarrassed by the blatant praise, he took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. “Um, thank you sir. I’ve been thinking about this, actually, and I quite like the idea of going into International Magical Cooperation.” He remembered having nearly the exact same conversation with Master Jerome in August. He still found curse-breaking attractive but it didn’t sound very serious somehow, and he didn’t want Flitwick to make light of him. He wondered what Roderick had said in his meeting. His future was so uncertain these days that he might not even know what kind of career he wanted anymore.

 

Flitwick looked thoughtful. “In all truth, Harry, I know you will succeed in anything you set your mind to.” Harry sat up a little straighter at hearing his first name. He’d somehow forgotten Flitwick’s penchant for familiarity. “But I don’t know what I can do to help you reach that particular department besides write you a character reference and encourage you in academics, which you hardly need. This,” he shuffled through some pamphlets on his desk and handed one across to Harry, “is the list of general requirements for entry-level positions at the Ministry. It’s mainly the standard O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, which you will have no problem with. Look over that and come to me if you have any questions.”

 

“Sure, Professor, thanks. I will.” He examined the pamphlet. It was coloruful and stylized, designed to catch the eye. “Is there anything else to be done right now?”

 

“Well, not officially, no,” Flitwick admitted cheerily, “but I am quite eager to hear all about how thoroughly you plan to win against Slytherin next month. Cupcake?” He produced a round tin out of a desk drawer and offered Harry one of the residing delectables. Grinning, Harry selected one.

 

“We’ll thrash them,” he said confidently. “Abigail’s been working us really hard, and since we didn’t have to integrate any new players this year, we’re really solid as a team. Slytherin’s fine and everything, but Montague and Bletchley have had a lot of detention this term, so they haven’t made it to many practices.”

 

“Excellent news, excellent!” Flitwick’s dark eyes twinkled. “Now, I expect you have studying to do, so I’ll let you go. And if you should happen to see Miss Moore about, do send her to me. She missed the meeting we had previously arranged.”

 

“Yes, sir,” he agreed, standing to go.

 

“Oh, and Harry?”

 

He turned, already halfway to the door. “Sir?”

 

“I’m putting three Galleons on the game. Don’t let me down.”

 

He grinned again. “Yes, sir.”

 

A few weeks later, early in May, was the final Hogsmeade visit of the year. The trio decided to take a well-deserved study break and go down, just for the morning. Besides, Roderick couldn’t very well skip: he had a date to keep.

 

Harry had never seen anyone with a bigger, happier, _stupider_ looking smile than the one Roderick wore on the way down from Ravenclaw Tower. He’d been perfectly useless all morning while Delf and Harry tried to get work done in the common room, gazing off into space and smiling dreamily. Delf swatted him a few times, and even that didn’t work. And he nearly walked into a suit of armour on the way down through the castle.

 

Harry and Delf left Roderick in the Entry Hall, where he was to meet Tracey, and made their way down the lawn to the main gates together in companionable silence. It was then that he remembered the Dementors stationed at the entrance. After everything with the fake ones at Tom’s Quidditch game and the Patronus, and then The Love Potion Thing, he’d managed to blissfully forget about them. But forgetting they were there did not mean they didn’t make his head swim sickly or his blood feel cold. Delf hurried him along past and he recovered quickly, and equally quickly expressed his gratitude. But for the rest of the walk down to the village, he was painfully aware of the awkwardness they’d experienced outside of Flitwick’s office, and made every effort to ward it off as the morning went on. She wanted to buy something for Astoria’s birthday, so they passed some time shopping, but the wind picked up as it got closer to noon and they headed over to the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer. Delf found them a small table in a corner while Harry bought the drinks and wondered miserably at what point it had become actually stressful to be around her.

 

It wasn’t her fault or anything: these stupid thoughts and feelings were entirely his problem. And he’d had another damned dream about her the previous night, which only heightened his awareness of her. He couldn’t imagine what she’d do if she found out about any of this. It would probably make her so uncomfortable that she would stop wanting to be around him. They had been best friends since they were six! That was nearly ten years of friendship he was jeopardizing!

 

And she did nothing but care for him, as only a best friend would, or could. She bore it so well when he needed her to ward off other girls. She supported him when he had to do stupid things to protect his brother. And Merlin knew he’d done some damn stupid things to protect his brother.

 

He pressed his palm against his forehead as he waited for Rosemerta and the drinks. He had to bring himself under control. If he could kick these feelings, things would get back to normal. They would be friends and do stupid things with Roderick to save Tom from himself and keep studying interesting things and just kind of… carry on. Carry on not being terribly, horribly awkward and wanting to stuff his head under the bed every time he said something to her.

 

Rosmerta came back with the Butterbeers and he handed over a few coins, then braced his self-control and went back to the table.

 

“Did the Dementors give you a headache?” she asked as he sat down and handed her drink across.

 

He made the mistake to looking right in her face and was momentarily dumbstruck. “Uh… no. Why?”

 

“I saw you holding your head. Is everything alright?” He had to look away from her concerned expression to avoid losing his tongue again.

 

He took a drink of Butterbeer to buy time and finally said, “Yeah, fine.”

 

“Hm. Okay.” She also took a sip. “I have to say, it’s nice to get out of the castle. Even if all the same people are here anyway.”

 

It was true: Hogwarts students flooded out of the castle on Hogsmeade weekends, and The Three Broomsticks was a main attraction. To Harry’s deep relief, they passed nearly three hours people-watching with absolutely no uncomfortable silences whatsoever. The trio had agreed that morning to meet up at 2 and go back to the castle, but Roderick was nowhere to be found, so Harry and Delf went up to the castle by themselves and did their Ancient Runes work.

 

In fact, Roderick didn’t get back in till nearly 7, looking thoroughly rumpled and grinning, if possible, more widely than he had been that morning.

 

“Good evening, my pair of beautiful turtle-doves!” he said genially, flinging himself into a chair next to Harry’s. Nearly everyone else in the common room gave him a dirty look, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I trust you have had a productive afternoon even while you mourned my absence?”

 

“If you’re going to sit there harassing us as we try to get work done, you should just go back to snogging Tracey,” Delf told him pertly, not looking up from her patchy History of Magic notes.

 

“Alas, if I only could,” he sighed, head flopping back. “She had another engagement with that friend from her House, something ludicrously sensible like doing homework or something.” He rolled his head sideways to see what was on the table. “What are you doing?”

 

“Something ludicrously sensible,” Harry replied dryly. “So, good date, eh?”

 

“ _Very,_ ” Roderick said, grinning rakishly.

 

“Note to self: reserve a few hours for Tracey to talk my ear off tomorrow,” Delf murmured. “I expect I’m going to know a lot more about your kissing techniques than I ever wanted to, Roderick.”

 

Roderick laughed hard and long at that, earning more angry looks and several shushes.

 

But lo and behold, Delf disappeared for two and a half hours the next day after lunch, and when she came back to Ravenclaw Tower, she looked faintly green and couldn’t look at Roderick for the rest of the day.

 

Two weekends later was the last Quidditch game of the year, Ravenclaw versus Slytherin. The weather started behaving just in time: the whole week leading up to it was stormy and blustering, but the day of the game dawned cool but clear, not a cloud in the sky. Roderick and Harry were the recipients of many back-slaps and good wishes that morning at breakfast, and catcalls and abuse from the Slytherins, so all was right in the world. Tom even came up and told him gravely that he _had_ to beat Draco in order to avenge his lost match.

 

“The stakes just go higher and higher,” he commented cheerfully to Roderick and Delf as Tom went back to the Gryffindors. “Flitwick has money on us, Tom’s honour needs avenging…”

 

“Flitwick is _betting_?” Delf repeated, glancing up at the teacher’s table. “Is that allowed?”

 

“Probably not,” Roderick conceded. “But who cares? The twins have a proper racket going.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Harry, for someone who’s the subject of so much gossip, you’re very oblivious,” Delf told him. Roderick nodded his fervent agreement.

 

After that they went up to get their brooms from the dorm. Delf went down to the pitch with them, claiming she wouldn’t get anything done even if she stayed in the library, so she went to find a seat in the stands as Harry and Roderick split off for the changing room.

 

“Morning, chaps!” Roger greeted them as they went in. “Good conditions, wouldn’t you say? Lucky it cleared up. Hope it’ll stay that way. Do you reckon it’ll be a long game? Shame if it started storming half way through.” Roger talked a lot when he was nervous and Harry and Roderick moved around getting ready while making understanding ‘mm-hmms’ until Abigail arrived, shortly followed by Chet and Chaz, with Cho bringing up the rear a few minutes later. Once they were all suited up and the crowds could be heard in the stands above their heads, Abigail gave an unusually long pep talk: she was a seventh year, so this would be her very last Hogwarts Quidditch game.

 

“It’s been a real honour to have you all as a team,” she told them, sounding choked up and tearful. “I can’t believe I have to graduate and let you all go. We play together beautifully, and we’ve had an extraordinarily good run. So thank you. Let’s go out there and give them a match to remember.”

 

If not particularly spectacular, it was a very good match. It went on for four hours, the teams trading goals back and forth in a positive battle for dominance. The Slytherin players were split between brutality and cunning, and played to their every advantage and broke every rule they thought they could get away with. Harry circled high above the game, dodging the occasional Bludger but otherwise staying out of the way. And keeping clear of Draco. The tactic of shouting abuse did not end at the doors of the Great Hall, and Harry heard a lot about what a stupid baby he was, how hilarious he and Tom had looked falling off their brooms, and other nonsense like that. It didn’t rouse the ire of wounded pride as it would have in Tom, but it was distracting, and he took care to stay on a different plane than the opposing Seeker, or edge up faster than him if he ever got close.

 

The score was two-hundred and eighty to three-hundred and ten in favour of Slytherin when Harry finally caught sight of the Snitch. Four hours was an unusually long time for a game to go on without Harry at least glimpsing the elusive little thing, and he tore off after it with glee. It was near the stands on the far side of the pitch, so he had to dive through the thick of the game to get at it, evading players coming from every direction, from both teams, and he could swear there were more than two Bludgers all of a sudden. He had to enact an emergency Sloth Grip Roll to avoid knocking Montague out of the air (not that he really would have minded, as he only had to do it since Montague got in the way in the first place), but the crowd was on its feet and screaming, and he could hear the rest of the Slytherin team shouting at Draco to catch up, catch up…! The Snitch darted in and out of the shadows of the spectator towers and Harry pursued it, arm outreached, he nearly had it…!

 

Draco blagged him! That damned bloody prat bastard!

 

Thus unbalanced, he did an ungraceful front cartwheel—Merlin only knew how he kept his seat—and when he righted himself and looked around for Madam Hooch to call the foul, it was to see her settling a fight between Chaz and Lucian Bole, one of the Slytherin Beaters. Grimacing angrily, he turned back to find where Draco and the Snitch had gone. They were zooming away halfway down the pitch, Draco gaining fast. That wouldn’t do. Urging his Firebolt forward, he tore off after the Snitch and the Seeker who was not going to catch it. Abigail’s last game would not be the first game he lost.

 

Draco was fast, but Harry was faster, and he caught up in barely any time at all. He was just getting abreast of him when the Snitch took a dramatic change in direction and plummeted straight down. Harry had to grin. Dives were his specialty, and the Firebolt was perfect for them. He plunged straight past Draco, who gave an angry yell, but Harry blazed down too fast to care, or even hear clearly. The Snitch had no tricks up its sleeve, and he made the grab a little dramatic for no other purpose than theatricality. Maybe he was related to Tom after all.

 

He landed neatly on the grass and pumped his fist in the air, displaying the conquered Snitch and enjoying the screams and roaring of the crowd. His teammates landed around him, shouting and cheering, and Chet and Roger lifted him onto their shoulders and Chaz and Roderick lifted up Abigail, who looked like she was crying. The spectators began pouring onto the pitch, and Delf was next to him, and Tom there near the back, cheering his head off, and Professor Flitwick receiving a purse from a disgruntled-looking Potions Master, and there really was no better feeling in the world.

 

There was a party on the common room, of course. A seventh year with a connection handed round a bottle of Firewhiskey, which Harry wisely avoided, but Abigail and Chaz both got sloshed and only took a break from kissing each other so that Abigail could kiss Harry, quite soundly. He decided it was time to get some sleep not long after that, as Kelly kept trying to sidle up to him, and he slept deeply, and dreamlessly.

 

Unfortunately, the party was the last respite before O.W.L.s set their claws in. Harry felt like he was facing into an oncoming storm as the fateful Monday morning of the Charms written exam. All written exams were in the morning and practicals in the afternoon, excepting Astronomy, which was on the night of the second Wednesday. Having tests for a whole week straight felt like sprinting for far too long without enough air. One test would happen and they’d barely have time to study for the next before it was upon them. He felt confident about Charms and breezed by Transfiguration. He was less sure about Herbology, but Defense Against the Dark Arts was easy enough. He and Delf sat Ancient Runes on Friday, and then collapsed on a sofa in the common room and fell asleep together, which was where Roderick found them when he got back from Muggle Studies. The weekend was a dearly needed break. They barricaded themselves in a corner in the library to study for Potions and Astronomy. The only others Harry had were Care of Magical Creatures and History of Magic, neither of which he thought would be terribly challenging.

 

But really, their trio literally was the top of their year. So if they stopped studying to chat, or even sleep, none of them considered it the end of the world.

 

So they all felt fairly good about Potions, and Care of Magical Creatures wasn’t a real problem either, though Hagrid had never specifically taught some of the things they were asked about. Then on Wednesday they sat the Astronomy written exam in the morning, and after that Harry and Roderick had the afternoon free while Delf went to do Arithmancy. They spent the time casually reviewing for History of Magic the next day, but they all took such shoddy notes in that class that it was a bit of a waste of time. They all went down to supper together when Delf got back and ate with their equally tired classmates. Fred and George were the only fifth years with any sort of energy at all, and they put it into enchanting a couple jugs of milk to levitate and joust each other with meat skewers, to the enjoyment of all, except the professors. McGonagall reprimanded them thoroughly but gave them each two points for the skill of the spell-casting. O.W.L.s put everyone in a strange state, it seemed.

 

At nine, the exhausted fifth years ascended the Astronomy Tower with telescopes and quills in hand. They were provided with star charts and instructions, and sat to spend the next three hours staring up at the sky.

 

He started dozing off somewhere around eleven, and Delf had to nudge him, and by the time it was all over everyone was yawning and rubbing their eyes. Bidding Tracey and their other year-mates goodnight (except the twins, who had declined to make an appearance), they and the other Ravenclaws descended a couple stories and cut across through a secret passage. Kelly had conspicuously stumbled into Harry a couple times, so he and Delf and Roderick stuck to the back. They had to take one of the freestanding staircases to get from the north wing to the east, and as Helen and Andrew stepped onto the landing, just ahead of Harry and Roderick and Delf, the stairs started to move. Most of the others groaned aloud at their poor fortune, but Will, Lawrence, and Beverly collapsed one each other and laughed from exhaustion and the sheer misfortune. Roderick waved mock-tragically as they moved away from the others, as if they were on a sinking ship.

 

“We’ll wait for you, Harry!” Kelly called after them.

 

“No, don’t!” he shouted back hastily. “Just go up to the Tower. We might not make it back for a while after you.”

 

“Night then,” Lawrence called through his laughs, waving and shepherding the others away along the passage.

 

Delf sighed after they disappeared. “This would happen to us, wouldn’t it?”

 

“Let’s just find the way around,” Harry agreed resignedly. They set off quickly through the castle, trying to aim for the east side and their Tower, but the turnings of the halls kept them heading stubbornly south.

 

“I am going to steal a Time-Turner and kill the architect who’s doing this to us,” Delf declared as yet another corner took them yet further away from the Tower and their beds.

 

“You do realize that was Ravenclaw herself, don’t you?” Roderick asked. “One of the four Founders, namesake of our House, mother of our ghost… any of this sound familiar?”

 

“Maybe I’ll take her place. Then we’d be in Greengrass House and the layout of this stupid castle would actually make sense,” she snapped, and Roderick and Harry chuckled.

 

Just then, Harry noticed a flash of light from the window they were passing, and paused to see what it was.

 

“What is it?” Roderick asked tiredly.

 

“I don’t know,” Harry said, frowning down at the three indistinct figures on the lawn below. He raised his telescope.

 

“If it’s your brother, we’re ignoring him and going to bed,” Delf said firmly.

 

His dad was the first he picked out, wand out and spells firing every other moment; then Remus, aiming his lit wand at a sheet of parchment and shouting; and Sirius looked more furious than Harry had ever seen in his life, more like a demon than a man… A minute adjustment of his telescope allowed him to see what they all seemed to be chasing: a rat ran through the grass, as fast as its short rat legs could carry it.

 

“Pettigrew’s here,” he gritted, setting the telescope down on the windowsill more forcefully than he meant to.

 

“Again!?” Delf shouted.

 

Harry was already running. He heard his friends swear and follow. Now that they weren’t trying to get to their dorm, the castle became very cooperative, and a mere two minutes found them sprinting down the marble stairs and out the huge front doors.

 

“DAD!” Harry bellowed. “Uncle Sirius! Uncle Remus!” He could see them by the light their spells made, down along the shore of the lake. Roderick, with his longer legs, was fast, but Harry’s years of morning runs gave him strength, and they reached the fight almost simultaneously.

 

“Harry, go back to the castle!” Remus shouted, somehow knowing he was there without looking at him. A sharp glance revealed that the parchment he was holding was the original Marauder’s Map that he’d traded the twins the new one for.

 

James looked back at his son in apparent amazement. “ _Harry?_ Get back! What are you doing here!”

 

“Trying to help!” he shouted back, but Delf grabbed his arm and dragged him away. Up close, he could see how they were cornering him: Lupin stayed slightly behind with the Map, shouting instructions since Pettigrew’s small form made it difficult for James or Sirius to see him. Harry had only seen him through the telescope because a spell had hit just next to him and illuminated the area for a moment. James and Sirius were coming in from two sides, trying to trap him against the water and Stun him. Even though there were two of them, Pettigrew was a small target, and fast, but it was only a matter of time. He felt Delf slide her hand into his, and he squeezed it reassuringly. This would be the night it all came to an end: his family could rest easy knowing the man who had caused Grandma Potter’s death was behind bars again. And this time they’d be sure he’d never get out.

 

Then the moon, which had not been present till that point, began to rise. And it was full.

 

The realization swept over the battling adults in the form of a moment of silence, shocked and still. Then Remus threw down the Map and his wand and took off running for the Forest. In the moment it took Harry to decipher what had happened, his father and Sirius had assumed their Animagi forms, the stag running after the man who was about to become a wolf, and the dog growling and snapping at the rat still cowering at the lake’s edge. At this, Harry sprang into action, pulling his wand from his pocket and firing a spell without even thinking.

 

Roderick and Delf joined in, and all three dashed forward to keep Pettigrew from escaping, even with James and Remus gone. But they couldn’t be as offensive as the Marauders had been since Sirius seemed intent on keeping right on top of Pettigrew and not letting him escape. Even with Delf on one side and Roderick on the other, and Harry in front, they weren’t able to do much.

 

Abruptly, Sirius lunged down, snarling. Harry heard his jaws snap shut, and a pained squeak. Sirius jerked his head up. He had Pettigrew by the tail and was swinging him around and around. At the high point of the revolution, the rat went soaring away through the air, trailing a prolonged squeal, with half his tail missing. Harry saw him fly across the moon and land somewhere behind them on the grass. From far off in the Forest, a howl echoed.

 

Harry scrambled after Pettigrew, half following the vague rustling in the grass and half his memory of where he’d seen him fall. Sirius scrambled after, growling deep in his throat, tail still dangling from his teeth.

 

“Harry, he’s on your left!” Delf called, and he threw a look back as he followed her direction. She’d picked up the Map and was hurrying after them with it, being their eyes.

 

“I don’t see him!” Roderick shouted, shining his lit wand around their feet.

 

“It says he’s right next to you, how can you not see him!”

 

“He’s just not here! Are you sure he didn’t go anywhere?”

 

“He’s coming this way!” Delf shrieked. “Where is he? Do you see? How is he not there?” She shone her wand about frantically.

 

Sirius solved the problem by zeroing in on a spot and digging eagerly.

 

“Shit,” Roderick cursed. “We’ll never get him if he’s underground. There must be mole tunnels or something.”

 

“Delf, point him out to me,” Harry demanded, and aimed at the spot she indicated. “Bombarda!” The sod exploded and grass and earth went flying in all directions.

 

“He’s still going!” Delf shouted. “That way!”

 

“Bombarda! Bombarda! _Confringo_ _!_ ” The series of explosions rattled the grounds, and when the dust settled and they could see again, Delf reported that Pettigrew had disappeared from the Map. Whether that meant he was dead or simply beyond the boundaries of the grounds, no one could say.

 

After several minutes during which Harry, Delf and Roderick sifted through the piles of earth looking for the body, if it was to be found, and Sirius went around sniffing the ground and growling with his hackles raised, they decided to give up. Giving something half a snarl and half howl, Sirius tore off towards the Forest, a great dark shadow, smooth against the grass.

 

“We should go inside,” Roderick said finally.

 

Another howl echoed distantly from the trees, as if to underline the sentiment.

 

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, looking around at the torn-up ground around them. “Let’s go.”

 

He led them back up to the castle, up countless stairs, past the eagle knocker’s riddle, and do bed. He slept too deeply to dream, and so long that he was nearly late for his History of Magic O.W.L. the next day.

 

Neither his father, Sirius, nor Remus were anywhere to be found that day. He pulled his mother aside for a swift conference during lunch to make sure she knew everything, and she was understandably alarmed. She’d been assisting Madam Pomfrey in brewing a new kit of allergy potions all night and hadn’t known anything as it was happening.

 

Rumors swirled around the school, of course. Even if nearly every student had been asleep in bed, ghosts didn’t sleep, and several gossipy ones had seen quite a bit of the previous night’s events. Some said Pettigrew was a monster horrible enough to frighten off the Head of the Auror Department, the Defense Professor, and the former Defense Professor; other said that he was a mere insect and that’s how he got away; other said he was merely a man and that getting away had been a fluke. But everyone agreed Pettigrew had been on the grounds that night. And everyone agreed that Harry and his friends had something to do with it.

 

The trench he’d created was testament enough that something exciting had happened, and by the end of the day he couldn’t find a single place in the castle where people wouldn’t come up and accost him with questions. He tried to be truthful, but he began to develop a headache after too long and went to take a nap shortly after lunch, since there was no practical exam for History of Magic.

 

As a result, he missed it when James, Remus and Sirius finally straggled out of the Forest, whole and unharmed, though James had lost his glasses somewhere, and Remus was understandably banged up and tired and went straight to the Hospital Wing.

 

So it wasn’t until the feast that night that that he finally saw all of them, and learned the official story that was being circulated. After all the food that could be stuffed into the collective student body had been stuffed there, Dumbledore arose and the Great Hall went quiet.

 

“As you are all aware by now, there were a number of things going on last night which you all deserve to understand fully.” Harry peered down the table to where his parents and uncles sat, trying to read what to expect from their expressions. Was Dumbledore going to tell the whole school about Remus? What would he say about Pettigrew? But all of their faces were closed and listening, so there was nothing for it but to turn his attention back to the Headmaster. “You have heard that Peter Pettigrew infiltrated the grounds of Hogwarts. This is true. You have heard that he escaped capture, despite the best efforts of our Defense Professor and two resident Aurors, and several students. This is also true. You may have heard that he escaped altogether, or that he was killed and his body not recovered. At this point, we are unsure which is the truth. The Dementors,” his voice remained level, but there was definite distaste in his expression, “report that they sensed no person entering or leaving the grounds at any point last night and remained at their posts throughout the encounter. After a discussion with the Minister, it has been decided that they shall be removed from their posts around the school.” A loud cheer went up that ended only when Dumbledore raised his palm for silence a few moments later. “But there is bad news as well.” The Great Hall went still. Bad news, after hearing that Pettigrew might still be out there? “Due to his continued and worsening ill health, it is with a great deal of disappointment that we must bid our Professor Lupin goodbye.”

 

A cry of protest arose from every table in the Hall, thought more quietly from the Slytherins. Remus had become the favorite of Hogwarts maybe even more than Sirius, and everyone had hoped that there might finally be a Defense Professor to stay for more than a year. Harry, who had known Remus had only taken the post very reluctantly, had still hoped he might be convinced to stay on. It was hard for him to keep a steady job because of his lycanthropy, but after a whole year of compete safety for himself and the students, he might have agreed to stay on but for Pettigrew’s appearance making him forget his potion. So he was disappointed, but not wholly surprised.

 

The rest of the evening was a jostling mix of depression and avid discussion for the castle. Naturally, everyone had to know everything that had happened the previous night. Groups that went out to investigate the scene of the fight stirred the cauldron with exaggerated assumptions of the giant dual that had reportedly gone on. Harry was as truthful as he could be to anyone who asked, excepting only Remus’ lycanthropy and the existence of the Map.

 

After their next Defense class after hearing the news about Remus’ departure, most of the class stayed behind, expressing their sorrow and regret that he couldn’t stay.

 

“You and Professor Black are the best though!” Fred and George lamented. “Couldn’t you stay for just a little of next year and see if you feel better?”

 

“Unfortunately no,” Remus said regretfully. Harry sat slightly away from the group in front of Remus’ desk, perched on the back of a chair with Delf and Roderick next to him.

 

“But sir,” Amanda begged, “You only missed a few classes. Surely it’s not _so_ bad.”

 

“I’m afraid it’s not a question of quantity, Miss Long, but rather that you need a teacher who’s reliable, not ducking out every few weeks to be ill.”

 

“But—” Greer Strong began, but Remus cut her off.

 

“I’m sorry, but the decision has been made. They are already undertaking the search for your teacher next year.” Everyone’s shoulders slumped at once. “Now go to lunch. I appreciate your concern for me, but it does no good just now.”

 

The group left, but Harry and his friends stayed.

 

“I know what you’re going to say, Harry,” Remus told him, running his hand tiredly across his scarred, lined face. Harry had always thought he seemed older than his father or godfather, but never more so than now.

 

“It really wasn’t your fault,” he said anyway. “You should stay. You’re a good teacher. You didn’t hurt anyone.”

 

“Me being a good teacher has less than nothing to do with it, Harry. I lost control. If your father and Sirius hadn’t been there, I very easily could have killed you. All three of you.”

 

“But they were!” Harry insisted, getting down from the back of the chair. “And if Pettigrew hadn’t come, you would have taken the potion and everything would have been fine!”

 

Remus shook his head. “I can’t live with the possibility. I’m a danger to you and the rest of the students and everyone in the town. I’ve been incredibly irresponsible coming here in the first place.”

 

“No!” Roderick protested, but Remus only shook his head.

 

“As I said, the decision has already been made. I’m leaving.”

 

Harry, severely disheartened, let the subject go. But that cleared the way for the next-most pressing question in his mind, and he decided now was as good a time as any to ask. “The thing I don’t understand still is… why bother breaking in in the first place? What does he think killing Tom is going to get him?”

 

Remus sighed and set down the papers he’d been sorting through. Delf and Roderick sat a little straighter beside him. “From what he said that night, and reports I’ve heard of his actions the other two times he broke in—”

 

“Wait, he spoke to you the night he attacked last?” Harry interrupted. “I didn’t know he was in his man form at all!”

 

“Only briefly. Once it became clear we weren’t, well, interested, he transformed back. That was a little while before you lot showed up out of no where.”

 

“We saw your spellfire from the window,” Roderick explained. “And we had telescopes from our Astronomy practical so we saw it was Pettigrew.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“So Pettigrew said…?” Delf prompted impatiently.

 

Remus gave her a knowing look. “He wasn’t completely coherent… he had over ten years to stew in his own guilt in Azkaban remember, so it’s hardly surprising… Just… sad. But from what little I understood, he seems to think that if he takes ‘the boy’ out of the picture, it will somehow undo his betrayal of your family and things will go back to normal.” He shook his head. “He kept saying ‘take me back!’ Over and over.”

 

Remus looked so profoundly grieved over this that Harry didn’t have the heart to ask more, even though he was burningly curious. But he had to remember that the man he had only ever known as the worst traitor imaginable had been his father and uncles’ best friend for their whole growing up, as Delf and Roderick were for him. The thought was so disconcerting that he stopped feeling curious almost altogether.

 

Remus shook himself and offered a weak smile. “Join your friends in the Great Hall: I’ll be down shortly.”

 

Harry nodded, and he went down to the Great Hall with Delf and Roderick.

 

-o-

 

The two weeks remaining in term felt like the hangover Harry had had on New Years day. And without even the bonus of having had a wonderful time first. But coming down from both O.W.L.s and Pettigrew’s attack was plenty tiring.

 

The goodbye feast had a weird tone that year. Everyone was glad the Dementors were gone, but no one (except some Slytherins) wanted Remus to leave. The twins did their best to bring the meal some levity, and Harry watched gravy boats and platters sail around with genuine appreciation.

 

“So let me see if I have this right,” Delf said as they climbed up to the Tower after the feast. “We start this year with Harry getting gored by a Hippogriff to save Roderick’s little brother…” Harry and Roderick looked at each other, then back to her, and nodded agreement. “And we end it with all of us trying to capture Peter Pettigrew, the most wanted man alive at the moment, in the middle of the night after our Astronomy exam.”

 

“Yep,” said Harry.

 

“Sounds about right,” said Roderick.

 

Delf snorted and shook her head. “I hate it here sometimes.”

 

The train ride seemed more subdued as usual too. Even with Tracey, Zadie, the twins, and Lee Jordan all in their compartment, there was little messing around. No one was sure what to believe about Pettigrew yet, about whether he was alive or dead, and the general feeling was that if he didn’t attack the train, then everyone could stop worrying about him. When they reached the Platform unharmed, everyone seemed to sigh with relief. James came and found Harry once the train stopped, and told Roderick that Sirius had already disembarked and was waiting for him to return to his flat. Taking Hedwig’s cage in one hand and his trunk in the other, he followed his dad off the train, Roderick and Delf just behind him.

 

The Platform was a mess of shouting students and parents, and owls and cats adding their own din. He followed James towards the back of the crowd where it thinned near the wall. He could see Lily and Sirius waiting there with Tom. Delf split away to find her family, promising to write them both very soon.

 

It didn’t feel much like a homecoming since both his parents and Sirius had been at Hogwarts all term, but it was a relief to be away from school for a time, where nothing seemed able to calm down anymore. Maybe, now that he was finally getting along with his family, Potter Manor could start to feel more like a proper home, a sanctuary.

 

“Ready to go home, boys?” Lily asked warmly, smiling as Harry and James came up.

 

“Born ready,” James agreed fervently.

 

“Right. Then Harry, you hang on to your father for Side-Along Apparation, and I’ll take Tom. Give your trunks over so they don’t get lost.”

 

Harry dutifully handed his trunk to James, then turned to Roderick to do a proper goodbye (until they saw each other next, which would be a few days at the longest), but Roderick wasn’t even looking at him. Following his friend’s gaze, he saw Draco and Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy about halfway down the Platform, looking back at Roderick. Mr. Malfoy’s hand rested firmly on Draco’s shoulder, but Mrs. Malfoy’s fingers curled in an unconscious-looking gesture of hope and desire. In that one small movement, Harry saw how badly she wanted her elder son to go home with them, to heal the breach and have things return to normal.

 

But Roderick turned back towards Sirius, saying something about walking rather than Apparating. Only Harry saw Mrs. Malfoy’s face crumple and Draco’s hands form fists. Mr. Malfoy’s chin jerked up as if he should have known better than to expect any different, and he yanked his younger son back, and none of them turned to look behind them as they went out into King’s Cross proper.

 

**Mini-chapter: Dumbledore**

 

“So it’s agreed then. We’ll send offers to these candidates,” Minerva said, closing the folio. With that statement, all official business of the meeting reached its conclusion.

 

“I enjoy that we say we ‘offer’ as opposed to ‘beg’,” Pomona said wryly, earning a chuckle from the rest of the gathered professors.

 

“We’ll sort it out, as we always do,” Poppy sighed. “Heavens, if the Potters come back next year, Severus could take Defense, and Lily could have Potions.”

 

Severus didn’t deign to reply to that, and studiously ignored the good-natured laughter of his colleagues.

 

“He nearly had a vacation with so much help from her,” Filius squeaked.

 

“She was bored,” Severus said stiffly. “She wanted something to do.”

 

“No one’s questioning anyone’s motives,” Septima reassured him. “Just making fun.”

 

Dumbledore wasn’t really listening. One end of term staff meeting was much like another, after all. He was thinking about Harry Potter. Yet again, the boy had succeeded in surprising him. The Patronus, for one thing. He had known Remus was teaching the boys, but had had no inkling that they would ever actually accomplish anything. And Harry had produced a fully corporeal stag. And with an unfamiliar wand, no less. The boy had power, certainly. An unnerving amount, given that Dumbledore had no certainty of his intentions.

 

So, with the intention of getting his ear to the ground about the boy, he said nonchalantly, “And that Harry Potter…” Severus gave him a sharp glance while the others made knowing noises.

 

“That Harry Potter,” Filius repeated cheerfully. “The perfect student if there ever was one.”

 

“Come now, Filius,” Minerva admonished. “Favoritism is never becoming.”

 

“Jealous, my dear?” His eyes twinkled. “Surely you thought any Potter must be destined for Gryffindor. What is it now? Five years running with the Quidditch Cup going to Ravenclaw?”

 

“Your totalitarian reign will end once the boy graduates, Filius,” Pomona promised.

 

“We’ll see, we’ll see,” the diminutive Charms Master chirped, waving his hand carelessly. “Still… quite the hero complex that boy has.”

 

“Yes, and incredibly protective, isn’t he,” Pomona added.

 

“And not only of his brother,” Minerva added, rolling a glance in the Potion Master’s direction, obliquely referring to the Buckbeak and Draco incident.

 

“Beaky feels so bad fer hurtin’ him,” Rubeus mumbled. “Wouldn’t eat his ferrets fer a week after.”

 

“Those animals are dangerous, Hagrid,” Poppy snapped. “Really, he could have lost the use of that arm if he’d been cut a millimeter more deeply.”

 

“And then he wouldn’t have been able to play Quidditch!” Filius piped up.

 

“Which we all would have been very sorry for,” Severus murmured. He was still sore over the loss of three Galleons and the defeat of his House.

 

“Harry Potter is an artist in the air!” Rolanda protested, affronted.

 

“Is it true he went into the Gryffindor common room once?” Charity asked nervously. She was a relatively new teacher, only having graduated Hogwarts four years previously, and still wasn’t sure of herself in the staff hierarchy. She’d been hired on for Muggle Studies when Quirrel migrated to the Defense position.

 

“Of course,” Binns answered, his voice a wisp. “All the ghosts know. He’s done it at least twice now.”

 

“What!” Minerva shrilled. “How?”

 

“Something to do with a certain pair of twins, I have no doubt,” Pomona said with gentle humor.

 

Minerva’s mouth worked silently for a long moment. “I give up,” she finally said.

 

“And last year in the Chamber of Secrets, of course,” Septima added, provoking a round of groans. There had been a veritable mountain of inquiries from the Ministry about that.

 

“Not to mention the diary incident.” Quirrell had become a sort of symbol of bad luck to the Hogwarts teaching staff, especially since the particulars of his disappearance were so very unclear, so most teachers took care not to name him aloud. A superstition Dumbledore approved of in practice, if not theory.

 

“And he and his two friends spend so much time in my Library, it’s difficult to imagine how they have time to become so notorious,” Irma huffed. Dumbledore knew she disapproved of students ‘setting up camp’, as she called it, in the library. She lived in fear of sabotage of her precious books.

 

“And you know they’re saying he fought Pettigrew in personal combat,” Filius said deviously.

 

“Stop trying to inflate your champion,” Minerva snapped.

 

“Well, at least he’s not old enough to get in real trouble next year,” Aurora comforted, prompted by the last word. They had spent several hours talking about preparations for that particular event earlier in the day.

 

“Stop,” Severus ordered.

 

“And with that, I’m calling the meeting adjourned,” Dumbledore declared, and there came the scraping of chairs pushed back and smaller conversations beginning. The Headmaster remained in his seat. He had much to consider.


	23. On the Subject of Girls

_On the Subject of Girls_

 

… _and then the chair was facing Frank, and he saw what was sitting in it. His walking stick fell to the floor with a clatter. He opened his mouth and let out a scream. He was screaming so loudly that he never heard the words the thing in the chair spoke, as it raised a wand. There was a flash of green light, a rushing sound, and Frank Bryce crumpled. He was dead before he hit the floor._

 

Harry jerked awake, drenched in cold sweat, his heart hammering in his chest. His hand was clamped over his forehead, and his old crooked scar was burning like it was on fire. He fought to keep the details of the dream from slipping away: there was a room, at the top of a big house, an old man and another man— _Pettigrew, he hadn’t died_ —and Voldemort… He tried to bring the image of the emaciated, wasted form to mind, but the wash of nightmare green blotted his vision every time. He’d had horrible dreams full of green light when he was little, even been unsettled of the Floo’s green flames, though it had been a long time before he understood why.

 

The pain in his scar was slowly fading, and he summoned his meditation training to settle the dream’s faint images more firmly in his mind. His heart slowed its pounding, and he reached to switch on his bedside lamp. His watch showed it wasn’t even five in the morning, and he slumped back against the pillow, exhausted and bewildered. His scar hadn’t hurt like that since third year when he faced Quirrel and Voldemort deep underneath Hogwarts. What did it mean? Was Voldemort near? It seemed unlikely, but…

 

He peeled the blankets off and went over to the nearest window, cracked open for Hedwig when she got in. The fields stretched away in all directions, dark and quiet and uninterrupted except where the wall surrounding the house sliced across the grass, and the distant lights of Godric’s Hollow on the horizon. Nothing out of the ordinary, and the pain in his scar had subsided to nothing. But just to be sure, he padded softly from his room and went next door to the library. Aldous, Gregory, Melody, Edith and Abram all dozed in their frames and he moved as quietly as possible past all the shelves to the farthest corner where the windows looked south and east. Nothing stirred except Godric Merlin Dumbledore who perched on top of the broom shed grooming his wings. He thought about turning into a crow and flying around, but he didn’t think crows had very good night vision, so he decided against it.

 

He let his mind wander, staring out across the dark grass. Most of July had passed already. He and his friends had gotten their O.W.L. results the week before and were satisfied, though Tom has accused Harry of somehow faking his because honestly, how could anyone get Os in literally everything? It meant his future was practically wide open, career-wise, which he’d been less excited about than he expected. He was turning sixteen at the end of the month, which in turn meant his sixth year of Hogwarts, and it was weird to feel nostalgic for a place he hadn’t even left yet. In fact though, since it was the early morning, now that he thought of it Harry already was sixteen. The thought brought only slight satisfaction. The summer so far had been almost boringly calm. Even Tom’s birthday hadn’t been the blow-out event it usually was. With Pettigrew still possibly on the loose (or certainly, if his dream was to be believed), the Potters were keeping a collective low profile. That meant not having most of the Ministry downstairs in the dining room. In fact, it had almost been a normal birthday party for a fourteen year old boy. Some of his friends came over and promptly disappeared upstairs while some of the adults stayed in the kitchen with Mum and Dad. Harry had stayed upstairs, reading in the library and for once not gotten in trouble for it.

 

And there he was again, only at five in the morning rather than three in the afternoon. And instead of reading or doing anything even relatively productive he was just staring out the window looking for Voldemort in the middle of West County, England.

 

“Harry?” a voice came behind him in the darkness. “Is someone there?”

 

“Sorry to wake you, Melody,” he called softly.

 

“Is everything alright?”

 

“Yeah, I just had a weird dream…” He wandered back towards the portrait wall.

 

“What about?” she asked, yawning.

 

Harry frowned, summoning the memories. “It was weird. There was this old man who went into a big house, and… Pettigrew was there, and a thing that was Voldemort who killed the old man and I woke up and my scar hurt a lot.”

 

“What scar?” Abram had woken up.

 

“This old crooked one on my forehead.” He pushed his hair out of the way so they could see.

 

“What do you think it means?”

 

He explained about his encounter with Quirrell in third year, and his theory that his scar was sort of Voldemort-detector.

 

“But there’s no way he’s here, is there?” Melody asked concernedly.

 

“I don’t think so. That’s why I’m confused,” he confessed.

 

“Who’s confused?” said Gregory sleepily.

 

“Oh Merlin, here we go,” Melody sighed.

 

“Melody, please,” Abram implored.

 

Harry explained everything all over again in as succinct a manner as possible. “Hmm,” Gregory said when he was done. “That all sounds very disconcerting, my boy. If I may recommend a course of action, in this case a time-honored and much-beloved one—”

 

Melody scoffed.

 

“—go write it down,” Gregory continued inexorably. “I gave this advice to innumerable students in my days as a teacher, and I stand by it now. Writing down the things that seem confusing helps them make sense. As a matter of fact, it’s how I decided to propose to a certain Miss Isabel Hearn, for which you should all be grateful because the Potter line would have gone in a very different direction without her.”

 

Melody looked surprised at Gregory’s advice being so simple and useful, and Harry privately agreed. “Thanks, Gregory, I will,” he said, and went for the door.

 

“Oh, and Harry,” Melody called him back. He turned to see his ancestors smiling down at him. “Happy birthday.”

 

He smiled in return. “Thanks.”

 

Writing the dream down didn’t take very much time. The details were still blurry, and every time he tried to recall Voldemort’s emaciated shape the wash of green blinded him. In the end he wound up with a half-page of rambling description punctuated with sudden sureties such as Wormtail’s identity and the knowledge that Voldemort was back and able to kill again. He put the paper in his trunk, ruminating on the important questions this development raised: should he tell anyone? Perhaps a better question would be ‘what would anyone do if they knew?’. After all, he didn’t actually know that much. ‘There’s a big house somewhere in Britain that an old man used to tend except Voldemort just killed him. Oh yeah, dear old Uncle Pete’s back with him, and a rotten huge snake. I saw all this in a dream and when I woke up my little crooked scar hurt like crazy. What do you make of that?’

 

Well, at least he knew Pettigrew hadn’t died that night at Hogwarts. Perhaps he should write to Master Jerome… in all his traveling, perhaps he had heard of a case like this one before. But then there was the question of where the man even was… He couldn’t very well send Hedwig off to South America or Mongolia or something. No, that wouldn’t do. He would ask Delf and Roderick what they thought he should do when he saw them later that day.

 

But in the meantime, it was barely five-thirty in the morning. For lack of a better idea, he pulled on a sweater and warmer trousers over his pajamas and crept down through the house. At this hour, even Tipsy was still asleep, snoring gently from her cabinet ‘bedroom’ in the corner of the kitchen. The air outside was cold and the dew sparkled in the dim moon’s light like diamonds spread across the grass and through the apple tree branches. It was so early that even the fairies weren’t awake yet. Fairies were strictly diurnal, unlike their cousin the pixie, but he usually enjoyed hearing their bee-like buzzing among the apple trees during his run.

 

He took the opportunity to stay out longer than usual, stretch his legs a little. He had gotten out of the habit of being able to really enjoy his runs, with all the craziness at Hogwarts all the time, and it was nice to have nothing concrete to worry about. Even over the past month, the latent anxiety about Pettigrew made him weirdly edgy and unable to pay attention to anything for long. But turning sixteen felt auspicious, even if everyone just thought it was a placeholder till the big one. Even with the dream, he decided he had to stop worrying about what he couldn’t change. He would talk to Delf and Roderick about the dream, see what they thought he should do, and deal with everything with logic and common sense, like they always did. Well, usually. As much as possible, anyway.

 

It was still nippy so he went back inside to meditate, and spent longer than usual doing that too, to help settle the dream more solidly in his mind. Even when he was done with that, it wasn’t even seven, so he had a shower and went back to his room. Bored and at a loss for what to do, he spent a while tidying his room up. As there wasn’t much to do, he was soon bored again and went back to meditating. Hedwig had returned while he was in the shower, and he listened to her coo and settle her feathers. With his eyes closed against the dim morning light, his ears sharpened, picking up the soft coming-awake sounds of the house. Tipsy pattered in the kitchen, starting the stove for tea. It was Sunday, so his parents were sleeping in a bit. Usually, James had to be through the Floo by eight, but the weekends were different. On the other side of his wall, the portraits were having an indistinct conversation, Melody’s irritation the only remarkable feature.

 

He felt pleasant anticipation at the thought of seeing his friends later, and happiness at the thought that things were finally right with his family. And after a while there were no thoughts at all. Time ceased to matter as it sometimes did during deep meditation, and the world simply existed around and within him.

 

A knock at his door yanked him back to life so abruptly he felt dizzy. “Harry?” said an indistinct voice.

 

“Yeh?” he called, putting a hand to his head and looking around a bit blearily.

 

“Can I come in?” It was Tom.

 

“Sure,” Harry said, getting up, only to discover that his feet had fallen asleep. Grimacing, he pulled himself onto the bed and massaged the spots above his knees. Tom opened the door and stepped inside. Turning fourteen had left him decidedly unchanged in all things, including height, eyesight, and general aura, and Harry sensed his disappointment. Tom had changed over time though, Harry reflected. He had carried the image of “Tom” around in his head as a whiny, pudgy eleven year old, forever yelling at him about being a proper Potter and heroism and nonsense like that. But three years passing had changed at least some of that. He didn’t whine as much anymore, he rarely ranted about heroism, and his body was more of a teenager’s than a child’s. He still wasn’t as tall as Harry, but from the way things were going, that wasn’t likely to change. He continued to favour long sleeved shirts and sweater-vests as opposed to Harry’s more casual jeans and t-shirts, but he could well still grow out of that silliness. He stood in the doorway, nervously fiddling with the buttons on his shirt cuffs.

 

“You, er, weren’t busy, were you?” he asked. His voice was changing too, an amusing development, which Harry only refrained from laughing at because he remembered going through it with Roderick a few years previously.

 

“No, not at all. Just meditating,” he replied, nodding to his tingling feet in explanation.

 

Tom bobbed his head up and down for a moment.

 

“Did you… want something?” Harry asked dubiously.

 

“No, er, just, um.” He cleared his throat, flushing a little. “Happy birthday.”

 

Harry blinked. “Thanks, Tom.” He meant it more than it sounded like he did. It was the first birthday he was celebrating after reconciling with his family. He was anticipating them being extra-careful around him, and Lily had made several references to looking forward to his ‘special day’ the day before. But even if their parents had reminded Tom, it meant a lot that he would come up alone to say it to him.

 

“I was going to get you a present,” he continued quickly. “But then I thought—since we’re going to the Alley later anyway—I could just… do it then…”

 

Harry smiled a little in spite of himself. He was so used to his brother going around crowing like a rooster all the time that seeing him stumble over himself once in a while was still fun. “That’ll be fine.” The plans for the day, as they stood, were that Harry and Tom were to go to the Alley after a late breakfast, and there meet Delf, Roderick, Tracey, the twins, Cedric, and Lee Jordan, as well as Hermione, who was coming to stay at the Manor since her parents were going out of the country. Then they would all come back for tea and have a real little party.

 

“Have you been to breakfast yet?” he asked after a short, awkward pause. Tom shook his head. “Well, shall we go?” He rocked to his feet, shaking the last of the pins and needles out as he followed his brother down the passageway and the stairs. Their parents had made their way downstairs some time ago, he’d half-heard during meditation, but was still surprised to find them in the kitchen with Tipsy, helping her mix and measure ingredients for pancakes.

 

Harry and Tom stopped in their tracks. Lily and James looked up from the bowls of batter they were stirring. Harry and Tom glanced at each other in amazement. As far back as he could remember, he had never seen either of his parents in an apron. Both of them were wearing them now. Harry couldn’t decide if he should laugh or not.

 

Lily set her bowl on the counter and hurried forward, a smile trying to cover how nervous she obviously was. “Happy birthday, Harry,” she intoned, embracing him tightly. Reacting almost too late, he hugged her back.

 

“Thanks, Mum.”

 

He moved to take up another mixing bowl, but James immediately protested: “No you don’t! The birthday boy is under strict instruction from the highest authority to sit down and do no work while his parents fix him breakfast!”

 

Bemused, Harry took a seat at the scrubbed kitchen table. “What’s the highest authority?”

 

“Your mum.”

 

Lily laughed and shook her head at him.

 

So Harry sat with Tom and watched their parents prepare pancakes. _Try_ and prepare pancakes. Tipsy hovered nearby, squeaking with corrections she dared not give Master and Mistress Potter. Truth to tell, James and Lily really had no idea what they were doing. They did not mix things properly, so they were still lumpy, once forgot the eggs, tried to flip them too early, and generally made a mess. Eventually, Harry could stand no more and stood up purposefully.

 

“Alright, let’s see if we can’t get this right.” He rolled up his sleeves. His parents looked a little sheepish, but smiled because his tone was light. His parents, Tipsy, and Tom, when asked, helped him clean the prodigious mess, and then he set them all tasks and soon the kitchen buzzed happily, everyone stirring or mixing or pouring with Harry and Tipsy manning the stovetop. The end results were much more pleasing than James and Lily’s original attempts, and they set to with eagerness.

 

James sat back with a contented sigh, surveying the carnage of the meal strewn across the table. Someone had spilled the cream and there were splatters of jam and butter on everything else. “That was good,” Tom declared. Harry allowed a smile to spread across his face, and Tipsy flat-out beamed at all of them.

 

“What time are you going to meet all of your friends?” Lily asked, likewise sitting back from the table and admiring the mess.

 

“Sometime around eleven,” he said easily.

 

“But I want to go earlier than that,” Tom cut in urgently. “I need to get him a present, and I told Ron I’d get us jerseys for the World Cup.” Instead of going abroad this summer, the Potters were going to the Quidditch World Cup, and allowing their sons to bring two friends each. Since the Weasleys also had tickets, and Sirius was taking Roderick, Harry had asked Delf and Tracey, and Tom was bringing Hermione. She would be staying at the Manor for the rest of the summer, starting that afternoon after Harry’s party.

 

“Well it’s nearly nine,” James pointed out. “If you want time for shopping, you should leave soon.”

 

“I’ll go get my things!” Tom jumped up and dashed out of the kitchen. Harry rolled his eyes at his brother’s enthusiasm, but smiled. Many things might change as Tom grew up, but his wild single-mindedness had not yet abated.

 

“Don’t you need to get your things as well, Harry?” Lily asked.

 

“I’m all set,” he replied, jingling a few Galleons in his pocket as he got up to help Tipsy clear the table.

 

“Listen, Harry…” James said quietly and Harry went still with his hands in the sink. Tipsy looked between the two hopefully. “We can never tell you how sorry we are. There’s no excuse for how we’ve treated you, and we can’t hope to ask for forgiveness. But we want to you tell us how we can possibly begin to make it up to you. Not now, necessarily, but if anything occurs to you, we just want to know. Does that seem fair?”

 

“Yeah.” Harry got the word out only with trouble. “But I don’t want anything special. Just… more days like this, where we all sit and eat and talk and just… act normal. I don’t know.” He turned around and looked at his parents. “Can we just try to be normal?”

 

In unison, James and Lily nodded, and they all smiled at each other tentatively. Tipsy beamed at them joyfully, but then burst out crying. At that moment, Tom returned. “What’s happened to her?” he asked, sounding a little unnerved.

 

“I think she’s just happy,” Harry replied uncertainly, kneeling next to the distraught house elf.

 

Tipsy threw her arms around his neck and bawled shrilly as he awkwardly patted her small back. “M-m-master Harry is s-s-so h-h-happyyyy! T-t-tipsy is s-s-so p-p-proud!!”

 

“It’s, er, okay, Tipsy, no need to cry over it…”

 

Tipsy eventually calmed down, and Harry and Tom bid their parents goodbye and took the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron.

 

“Hey Tom!” Harry called, and the barkeep waved a rag to them.

 

“I want to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies first,” Tom said as they made their way to the small bin-filled courtyard and Harry tapped the appropriate brick. “That way we can get England jerseys and if you see something you want, that can be your birthday present.”

 

“Sensible,” Harry agreed dryly.

 

The Alley was not very busy at this hour, and only a few shoppers were out. But suddenly Tom pulled Harry in front of him. “Look,” he hissed. “Nita Linese.”

 

Harry looked around confusedly until he saw a slim girl with short fluffy blonde hair coming down the road towards them. All he knew about her was that she was in Gryffindor and was the year above him, and sometimes minded Bigby’s tattoo parlour. What was the problem? He voiced this question to Tom, who replied softly, “They say she has an evil attack-ferret. They say she knows everything about everyone. They say she never sleeps.”

 

“Oh please,” Harry scoffed. As they drew abreast of Nita, he called out a friendly, “Morning!”

 

She looked at him with a faint furrow between her brows. “Morning.”

 

“See?” Harry said when they were out of ear-shot. “She’s perfectly nice. Some Gryffindor bravely you’ve got.” But he said it with a grin, so all Tom did was scowl at him a little.

 

Quality Quidditch Supplies smelled of broom polish, crisp cloth, and sweat, as ever. Tiny mechanical flyers in different team colours zoomed about their heads, and various players on posters waved down at customers and hissed at each other.

 

“There are the England jerseys.” Tom pointed. “How many should we get?”

 

“Wait, you were serious about that? Tom, we don’t even know if England is going to _be_ in the finals. We nearly lost to Liechtenstein last week. _Liechtenstein._ _”_

 

“They had a bad day! They have to be in the finals. I mean, we’re hosting them!”

 

“Just because Turkey hosted them last time and happened to be in the finals, that does not make it a rule. Wait till we know who’s in the finals, then buy jerseys.”

 

“At least it won’t be Scotland,” Tom muttered, earning an angry look from a nearby witch. “Who do you think it will be, Harry?”

 

He thought. “Romania might make it if they avoid Ireland, their Chasers are way too good. The Ivory Coast is a funny case because their Beaters are offensive, but their Chasers are really defensive, so we’ll have to see how they do against Japan next week. Bulgaria’s obviously a strong contender because of Krum, but Australia and Mexico have excellent Seekers as well. Though Mexico’s main Keeper took a Bludger to the head last game and may not be able to play, so—”

 

“Harry, look at this! This broom-care kit has a new style of bristle clippers! What do you think?”

 

Annoyed, Harry looked around. Tom proffered the newest commercial broom-care kit, proudly emblazoned with an ad for the item Tom had mentioned. “Very nice.”

 

“Do you want it for your present?” Tom asked eagerly.

 

“Er… I’ve got two already… no wait: three. Thanks though.”

 

Tom pursed his lips in a manner reminiscent of their mother and looked around shrewdly. “What about that?” he pointed to the book rack.

 

Harry raised his eyebrows. “ _Quidditch Through the Ages_? Tom, there are probably five copies of that at the house. You have met Dad, right?”

 

“But it’s the fifth edition!”

 

“I’m positive Dad has it already.”

 

“Hmph…” Tom wandered away to do a more thorough search.

 

“I thought I might find you here,” said a familiar voice, and Harry turned to see Roderick at his shoulder.

 

“Hey mate! How’s it?”

 

“Not bad, not bad. What’s your brother doing over there?”

 

“Trying to find me a birthday present. He already suggested _Quidditch Through the Ages_. He wasn’t joking either.”

 

Roderick laughed and started to say something, but just then Tom came hustling back over holding a rolled up poster. “I’ve got it!” he said triumphantly, and unrolled it. Harry smiled and elbowed Roderick when he saw the Bulgarian Quidditch team and Veela cheerleaders waving up at him. Roderick had given him an earlier version of this poster for his birthday a few years ago.

 

“Not a lot of turnover on the team itself,” Roderick noted. “Only Krum and Levski are new.”

 

“So do you like it?” Tom asked eagerly.

 

“Sure, Tom. This is great,” Harry replied. Tom grinned triumphantly and dashed off to pay. “I’ll put it up next to the other one,” Harry murmured, and Roderick laughed again. “Have you seen anyone else yet?”

 

“No, but I wasn’t really looking. We’re supposed to meet up at the pub, right?”

 

“Yeah. And I wouldn’t count on everyone to be on time either.”

 

“Good point.”

 

They left the shop a minute later, Harry with the rolled-up poster under his arm, and the three of them meandered back down towards the Leaky Cauldron. The air was fresh and clean, the sun peaking from behind intermittent clouds, and the Alley was coming to life. But that meant…

 

“Tom! Tom Potter!” In a matter of moments, Tom was swamped with a crowd of eight or ten people, all eager to shake his hand or get his autograph or whatever. Harry found himself surprised, but crushed the reaction angrily: just because he got on with his parents and Tom again and his parents were being more conscious about treating their sons equally, the rest of the world had no such obligation to him. As far as the public was concerned, nothing about the Potters had changed: Tom was their savior and Harry was nothing.

 

But then Tom surprised him: “Thank you very much, everyone, thank you—yes, lovely—but I’m actually out with my brother at the moment, yes, you see, it’s his birthday today, so I’m afraid I really haven’t got time at the moment. I expect to see you all again at some point though, so have a good day for me, alright? Oh, thank you, charming, mm.”

 

The crowd drifted away and Tom, a little pink in the face, returned to where Roderick and a very surprised Harry were standing. Tom offered them a sticky lolly a little boy had just thrust upon him. “Happy birthday?”

 

“Thanks but no thanks,” Harry said firmly.

 

“Well, let’s get down to the pub.” Tom seemed eager to get moving, so Harry and Roderick followed him as he took up a swift clip down the Alley.

 

“Is this a new habit for him?” Roderick asked quietly, sounding as amazed as Harry felt.

 

“’New’, yes. ‘Habit’? Too early to tell,” he murmured back. His friend snorted.

 

Tracey and Cedric were at the pub when they got there, and Roderick immediately went to greet his girlfriend while Cedric stood to greet Harry. “Happy birthday Harry,” he said, holding out a rectangle wrapped in yellow paper that looked suspiciously bookish.

 

“Yes, happy birthday,” Tracey agreed from across the table. Roderick stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist and his chin on top of her head. “My mum says she’ll have your contacts next week. She got a little swamped this quarter for some reason.”

 

“Great. Thank you, both of you.”

 

They all sat down and conversation naturally fell to Quidditch since four of the five of them played the sport and all of them were fans. Tom was again expounding on England’s inevitable victory and was being loudly shouted down by everyone else when a pair of hands interrupted Harry’s vision and a voice at his ear whispered “Guess who?” He raised his hand to feel the other person’s, but he didn’t really need to: it was Delf. Her voice was as familiar to him as his own and her hands were as distinctive to him as her face. The only problem was that her proximity brought to mind another of _those dreams_ he had suffered several days before. He had come to the conclusion at the end of the previous year that he would swear off girls, temporarily at least, in order to save his sanity and hopefully prevent getting love-potioned again.

 

“Hi Delf.”

 

“What gave me away?” she asked, removing her hands and sliding into the chair next to his.

 

“Well… you’re you.” This earned a laugh from around the table which he joined in on without understanding.

 

He hadn’t seen Delf if nearly a fortnight, due first to Astoria’s birthday and more mischief Dwight got up to, and then a ten-day holiday their family took to Wales. They had written letters, of course, but he still disliked going so long without seeing her. He felt the same about Roderick and the rest of his friends, of course, but the fact was that he had seen all of them more recently than he had her, so her absence had become especially acute.

 

The twins arrived with Lee Jordan a short while later, and the gang set off to range through the Alley. Tom told the twins and Lee about seeing Nita Linese, and they corroborated her fearsome reputation, to Harry’s surprise.

 

“Sure, I heard she broke a boy’s nose when we were in second year,” Lee said.

 

“They say she didn’t even get detention,” George added jealously.

 

But then Tracey asked what the poster Harry had was of, and the Veela cheerleaders got them all quite distracted. Most of them, anyway.

 

They passed nearly two hours quite happily in this fashion: poking into musty old knick-knack shops, stopping in on old Florean Fortescue for a giant sundae they all shared, wherever their feet took them. When it was nearly one they trooped back down to the Leaky Cauldron with its Floo connection and there found Hermione waiting for them. Tom was eager to see her, since he’d spent the whole morning exclusively with Harry’s friends and was sick of being treated as a subordinate. She had her trunk with her since she would be staying at the Manor through the end of summer, and Harry, who had some experience Flooing with trunks, offered to take it for her. She agreed with a faint blush and he took it from her and went spinning away in green flame.

 

“I’m home!” he called, stepping into his own familiar dining room. “And everyone else is coming soon too.”

 

“Welcome back, sweetheart,” Lily called from the kitchen. “How many are you?”

 

“Ten altogether,” he replied, setting Hermione’s trunk to the side of the fireplace. Delf appeared in the flames a second later, then Tracey, Roderick, George, Cedric, Hermione, Fred, Lee, and Tom in quick succession. Harry led the way into the kitchen, but stopped short in the doorway when he saw who was at the table: Mr and Mrs Greengrass, Astoria, and Dwight sat with James and Lily, who looked quite tense and nervous. “Mum?” said Delf, peering over Harry’s shoulder. “Dad? What are you all doing here?”

 

“We didn’t want to miss Harry’s birthday simply because it’s here this year,” Mrs Greengrass said primly.

 

Lily gulped and strained to keep her polite smile in place. Harry grimaced. He knew the Greengrass family, including Delf, bore his parents a strong grudge for all the years of neglected birthdays, but he had never thought he would have to mediate any kind of confrontation between them.

 

“Thank you for coming,” he said a little formally and stepped into the kitchen so that the rest of his friends could stop lurking behind him. “I hope we’ll all have a nice time together.” Somehow, those simple words dispelled some of the tension, and everyone poured in around him and gathered at the table. Tom and Hermione gave Astoria measured looks, since the only way they knew her was as ‘a third-year Slytherin’ and she looked at them guardedly as well. The twins and Lee Jordan immediately went over to Dwight and started conferring pre-Hogwarts wisdom, none of which sounded very parent-friendly, but Tracey and Roderick had taken Mr and Mrs Greengrass’ attention, and Cedric had asked James about Quidditch, so everyone was already tied up. “That was easy,” he murmured to Delf, who nodded and leaned her head on his shoulder in silent support.

 

Sirius and Remus arrived after that, which meant they had to move to the larger table in the dining room and they all settled into Harry’s birthday tea. Tipsy was kept quite busy since there were more guests than they had been expecting, but quite-busy-with-more-guests-than-expected was Tipsy’s favourite way to be. They had sandwiches and treacle tarts and lemonade, and they even made Harry cover his eyes when they brought out the cake and sang. The cake was large and beautifully frosted in blue and white with a big “16” on top. “Make a wish,” several people instructed at once, though he was pretty sure he heard the twins say ‘case of fish’, which was odd. So he made a wish, and blew out the candles in four breathes since once of the candles kept relighting itself. The twins were chortling conspiratorially by the time it went out for good. Harry glared at them, but without real malice. Slices made their way around the table and he was about to take a bite when he heard someone make a quiet joke about love potions, and which point he promptly held his laden fork out to Delf. She gave him a slightly weary glance, but her eyes were gold and but she took the bite, to hoots of laughter from their friends. At first she chewed normally, but then a look of rapture spread across her face and she turned to Roderick, whose cheeks were bulging comically with cake.

 

“Roderick, I… I never knew before how perfect you are… Forget Tracey, let’s run away together.”

 

Roderick, swallowing hastily, looked first at Harry, then to Tracey, then back at Delf. Then he leaned in close to her and whispered, “Delf, it’s like you don’t _want_ Harry to fall in love with me.”

 

No one stopped laughing for several minutes.

 

Presents came next. The three-part silver frame and scrapbook were first, then Tom (who had insisted on dashing upstairs to wrap the poster in paper Harry was pretty sure came off one of the presents Tom had received four days previously) gave him the poster again, and there was a great deal of admiration to be got through before they could move on.

 

By final count, he had several new books which had to be read immediately, a new broom care kit after all, a coupon to Bigby’s from Sirius, to Lily’s vast displeasure, and several other very interesting items that wouldn’t bear too close an examination in the presence of parents. After saying ‘thank you’ enough times, he asked Delf and Roderick to help him bring everything up to his room, and the party broke into segments and started several different conversations. Toting an armful of books in one arm and the broom care kit in the other, he led his two friends upstairs to his room where they deposited everything on his bed, which would be a pain later when he wanted to sleep there, but he had other problems to deal with at the moment. Instead of going back downstairs again, he went to the door just to the left of the staircase and beckoned them to follow him into the room. Sharing a confused look, they did, Delf shutting the door behind them. They were in what was loosely called ‘the spare room’, but that wasn’t quite accurate: everything the Potter family didn’t want to get rid of but also didn’t want to deal with had wound up there, so there were lots of Harry and Tom’s baby things, and James and Lily’s things from Hogwarts, and many boxes of Grandma and Grandpa Potter’s things, and scads and scads of stuff from even further back in the family’s history. No one would think of looking for them in there.

 

“I thought we were going to keep the cloak-and-daggers stuff strictly at school.” Roderick sounded resigned already.

 

“I wish we could,” Harry said grimly.

 

“I just want to know one thing,” Delf sighed. “Is this going to top you telling us that you’re the real… you know, thing?”

 

“Very specific, dear,” Roderick said, smirking.

 

“You know where we are,” she snapped. “Who knows who might be eavesdropping?”

 

“Anyway,” Harry quickly overrode the retort he could see Roderick preparing, “No, this will not quite top that, but it’s still not good.” He took a deep breath. “I had a dream last night…” He prefaced with the acknowledgment that dreams were mostly just dreams, but that his one felt different, was like no other dream he’d ever had before, had unnerved, even scared him. He explained about the old man Frank following the light into the dilapidated house, seeing the giant snake, and Pettigrew and the Voldemort-thing that had killed Frank. It wasn’t till he got to the end and explained how his scar hurt when he woke up that either of them looked completely grave.

 

“What do you think it means?” Delf breathed.

 

“Altogether it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” Roderick replied. “He’s back, and he’s got the not-dead Pettigrew as a servant again. As well as a bloody great snake, apparently.” He glanced at Harry for confirmation, and he nodded.

 

“What are you going to do?” Delf asked. “Have you told anyone else?”

 

“That’s what I wanted to ask you about,” he admitted. “Do you think I should? I mean, what I’d basically be saying is ‘I had a dream about Voldemort killing a man and he had Pettigrew and a snake and when I woke up I had a headache.’ Not incredibly convincing.” Roderick snorted, but then looked contrite. “But even if I could make them believe me, that leads to a great many questions that we’ve already decided not to answer, like ‘why is Harry having this dream and not Tom?’ and ‘What actually happened in third year with Quirrel?’ and ‘What do you mean you’re actually the… you know?’” He ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. “Especially since I’ve already convinced Tom I’ve no inkling he might not be it, and that he’s the best man for the job.”

 

“You convinced him he’s what?” Delf scoffed.

 

Harry shrugged ruefully. “It was an emergency. But what do you think? Should I tell anyone?”

 

Roderick crossed his arms thoughtfully. “Well, who would you tell?”

 

“I dunno… My parents, and…” he grimaced, “Dumbledore, I suppose.”

 

“What would they do if they knew?”

 

“Who knows? Look for an old country house somewhere?”

 

Roderick sighed and rubbed his forehead.

 

“Maybe we should keep this amongst ourselves for now,” Delf said, sounding doubtful. “You said he looked really weak, right? He may just die, properly this time.”

 

Harry wanted to believe her. More than anything, he wished for her words to come true. But he couldn’t believe it. Somehow, his dream heralded something important, something bad. But maybe Roderick was right too: what would anyone do if they knew? Deep down though, he knew his motivations for secrecy were nothing so rational. He simply didn’t want to upset the new status quo. He didn’t want to be the Boy Who Lived, especially because it would certainly upset his delicate new alliance with his parents. So even though it caused him shame, he decided to keep his dream to himself.

 

“Yeah, I guess so,” he agreed.

 

Delf looked relieved, her eyes turning from anxious hazel to contented goldy-brown. He smiled without meaning to, and she blushed and broke their eye-contact, turning to brush some dust off a nearby box. “I hope this means we’re getting all the drama out of the way before we get to… Does this say ‘wedding’ on it?”

 

He craned his neck around to see what she was looking at. “Looks that way, yeah. I wonder what’s in there.”

 

“You’ve never seen your parents’ wedding things?” Delf asked curiously.

 

“Well, Dad has their formal portrait up in his study, and Mum has a couple on Christmas tree ornaments, but not really, I guess.” He moved up to examine the box with her. Encouraged, she pulled the flaps open and peered within.

 

“Delf,” Roderick chided. “You can’t just go poking in people’s wedding things without permission.”

 

“Go get permission then,” she replied smartly, pulling a large photo album out of the box.

 

“Didn’t your parents teach you manners?” he asked mildly, coming up behind the pair of them.

 

Delf ignored him and flipped the album open. “Wait, Harry, is that you?” she asked, pointing to a spot on the large portrait of the wedding party on the opening page. In it, James and Lily stood in the middle of a small party of friends and family, smiling and holding Harry, who wore a miniature tuxedo.

 

“Yeah, I was three months old.” He had barely seen any pictures of his parents’ wedding. He rarely went in his father’s study and hadn’t been to a lot of Christmases recently. He suspected these were only put away in this room because they were too busy dealing with the aftermath of Voldemort’s attack, or too busy preparing to go into hiding. He moved behind Delf for a better view and put his head on top of hers, then found it convenient to wrap his arms around her waist. For some reason, Roderick snorted.

 

Delf swatted him, then went back to ignoring him, and wondered, “How did that work?” and turned the page. These were pictures of before the ceremony, of James, Sirius (holding Harry), Remus, Pettigrew, and the Ministry official at the altar.

 

“Well you see, I was born before my parents go married, so I was technically illegitimate till I was fourteen weeks old. As I understand it, Grandma Potter was not thrilled with Mum and Dad about that.”

 

“Did she go into hiding with all of you?” Roderick asked curiously.

 

“Yeah, we all moved into the village a few weeks before Tom was born. Those are some of my earliest memories, exploring the cottage for the first time. Having a carpet fascinated me since all the floors here are stone or wood.”

 

“That’s adorable,” Delf said, the smile evident in her tone as she turned another page. These were of the ceremony itself, James and Lily holding hands and smiling the happiest, silliest smiles he had ever seen either of them wear.

 

“Where was your dad’s dad? Or your other grandparents, come to think of it?” Roderick asked.

 

“Grandpa Potter died when Dad was sixteen, of dragon pox. I’m not really sure what happened to Mum’s parents. I know they died, but Mum never really talks about it. That’s my aunt and uncle, there.” He pointed to blonde woman at the end of the row of bridesmaids and a head in the front row attached to a very porky pair of shoulders. “They have a son around Tom’s age, but I’ve never met him. They’re Muggles, and I don’t think they really like magic.”

 

“Weird,” Delf diagnosed succinctly.

 

Harry shrugged as she turned another page. These were of the reception afterwards, which looked like it had taken place in the very grounds of Potter Manor. “Well. I’m sure they’re perfectly lovely people anyway.”

 

Roderick snorted. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say—Harry, are you in a crown there?”

 

“In a _what?_ ” He peered at the photo Roderick was pointing at, and lo and behold, James was cradling a chubby baby Harry who looked very grumpy and was wearing a much-too-large tiara. Lupin stood on one side of James, grinning with a glass of champagne, but Sirius was on the other side, laughing so hard he couldn’t stand up straight. “Three guesses whose idea _that_ was.”

 

Roderick abruptly snatched the album away from Delf and made a break for the door. “The twins are seeing these!” he shouted as he disappeared around the corner.

 

“ _No!_ ” Harry yelled and bolted after him. He heard Delf release a startled laugh and follow at a more sedate pace, and was actually happy she was having fun, but he had his reputation to uphold. But swift though he was, Roderick had had a head start and beat him handily downstairs. The album was already open on the dining table, surrounded by a gaggle of laughing birthday guests.

 

“Good taste in accessories starts early, eh Harry?” Fred hooted. Sirius was laughing now just as hard as he was in the picture almost sixteen years ago.

 

Defeated and chagrined, he decided to subscribe to ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’, and went over to the table as well. Lily came in from the kitchen with Mrs Greengrass a moment later and when she saw what they were looking at she exclaimed, “I haven’t seen these in years! How lovely! Where did you find them?” Slinging an arm around Delf’s shoulders, as she had arrived as well, he told them about the box full of wedding stuff up in the spare room. Flipping through the album and telling stories took quite some while, though not everyone paid the strictest attention the whole time. Sirius, Fred, and Dwight began an animated argument about Quidditch, and Tracey and Astoria got distracted chatting about the latest Weird Sisters album, and Harry eventually drifted away to talk to Mr Greengrass about his plans for the rest of the summer. They were unusually amorphous because he didn’t have tutoring with Master Jerome anymore, and centred mainly on the Quidditch World Cup at the end of August. Otherwise, he had a lengthy reading list and had already made lots of plans with his friends, so he wouldn’t be idle. He always enjoyed talking to Mr Greengrass, and when he looked around again conversational groups had reformed. Roderick and Hermione were telling Dwight all about what each Hogwarts House was actually like, Fred had brought the Quidditch argument to Tom and Remus, Delf was discussing something with James which he couldn’t quite hear, as were Cedric and Mrs Greengrass, and Sirius and George were explaining the finer points of some kind of prank to Lily, who looked nonplussed.

 

Eventually Mrs Greengrass thought to check the time and murmured to her husband that they should think about leaving. This prompted Cedric to realize he was late, so he bid Harry a hasty happy birthday and everyone else farewell before stepping through the Floo. Mrs Greengrass and Astoria followed a short while later, as well as Delf after giving Harry a tight hug and promising to see him quite soon, but Mr Greengrass had to go outside the gate of the wall around the grounds to Apparate with Dwight since last time they let him try the Floo he’d gotten in some kind of trouble going somewhere he was definitely not supposed to go. Everyone else trickled out over the next half hour until only Harry, Tom, their parents, Roderick, Sirius, Remus, and Hermione were left. Lily took her upstairs to help her arrange her room, while the others headed for the sitting room, where Tipsy brought them tea.

 

“Now boys,” said James in business-like tones. Harry glanced nervously at Tom and Roderick. Were they in trouble? For what? “You’re getting older, and certain factors are inevitably going to become important. Harry has the most experience in this area, so we’ll have him give the opening comments. Harry, what can you tell us about girls?”

 

“Oh!” the three boys chorused, relieved.

 

“Um, to sum up… girls are crazy,” he said firmly.

 

“Oi, oi!” Roderick protested as everyone else laughed. “Cho and Katie were excellent: it was Lavender and Kate-Kat-Kah…” He shook his head briskly, making unintelligible noises. “ _Kelly_ that were crazy. By the way, you have no idea how many times I did that when you were snogging both of them last year. Try to complain about Kelly, it comes out Katie. Impossible. Next time, snog girls with more distinct names.”

 

“No problem,” Harry replied. “I’m swearing off girls for the time being. They’re too much trouble.”

 

“Yea, sure you are,” Tom scoffed.

 

“Alright, Sir Sceptical, when are you going to _start_ dating? Hm?” he asked. Tom stopped laughing and blushed bright red.

 

Sirius chortled. “First things first: you can’t lose your cool just at the mention of girls. Prongs, stand up.” James did so, as did Sirius. “This is ‘Prongs-ina’. She is an attractive girl I think I might want to date, or at least snog a bit.” James batted his eyelashes. Tom looked concerned, Harry grinned, and Roderick tried to hide his abundant amusement behind his hand. Remus, who had grown up around this behaviour, merely sat back and crossed his arms to watch the show. “I am expressing my attraction to Prongs-ina for the first time.” Sirius turned and made an elaborate bow to James, who fanned himself with his hand. Tom, starting to get it, smiled uncertainly. Harry rolled his eyes at him. “Now, as I first approach Prongs-ina, what air, what _attitude_ should I take? Should I be shy and deferent?” He mimed mopping nervous sweat off his brow, then looked around at his small audience for an answer. Harry, who had been through a great deal of this at a much younger age, elbowed Tom helpfully.

 

“Well, being deferent is a good—” he began uncertainly, only to have Sirius cut him off unceremoniously.

 

“WRONG! Shyness indicates lack of confidence, and confidence must be present in spades! One must not be a fop! Now, knowing that, is it preferable to be blustering, impulsive?” He thrust his chest out, playacting brash. Helpless, Tom nodded. “NOPE! Blustering indicates lack of sensitivity, and sensitivity must be present in spades! One must not be a boor! Now, knowing this, we find the middle-ground: is it preferable to be sincere and sympathetic?” Tom, who knew those words, nodded eagerly. “He can be taught!” Sirius crowed. “A correct application of this attitude can take you from this…” He turned to James and made direct eye-contact. He held out his hand. “Hi, Prongs-ina. I’m Sirius Black. I like your hair.” James shook Sirius’ hand and pretended to giggle. Roderick spluttered and Remus grinned at him. “So you can go from _that,_ ” Sirius went on, “to _this…_ ” He swung James into a dramatic tango dip and went in as if planning to kiss him, but just then Lily and Hermione appeared in the doorway. Hermione’s expression as she beheld the tableaux would have won an award. Lily simply raised her eyebrows.

 

“Lily, I’m Prongs-ina now and I’m running away with Sirius.”

 

“Well, I’m keeping the house and I expect child-support every month,” she returned smoothly, leading Hermione into the room.

 

“Oh-ho, cut-throat!” Sirius exclaimed, setting James on his feet.

 

“I married a cold-blooded harpy, that’s for sure,” James agreed, sliding an arm around his wife’s waist and kissing her temple.

 

“Thanks ever so,” she said wryly. “Kids, Tipsy has ginger cookies and leftover treacle tarts in the kitchen if you’re interested.”

 

They were, of course, and Harry led the other three from the sitting room to the kitchen, leaving the adults to their own devices.

 

**Mini–chapter: Padfoot**

 

Sirius sighed as he flopped back into the chair. “No question about it Prongs, Tom did not inherit your gift.” Tom, his protégé, and his godson along with Hermione had made their way outside with the biscuits and were having a picnic under the apple trees, he could just see them through the far window. Lily had disappeared to investigate the rest of the wedding things in the box upstairs, so he, Prongs, and Moony were left to make their own fun.

 

“Not for lack of trying, poor fellow,” Prongs sighed.

 

“Harry got it at least three-fold,” Moony chuckled.

 

“And yet is still completely oblivious somehow…”

 

“That boy needs to learn to listen to people,” Prongs declared. “You know he told me that something like five girls warned him about that Middlebrow girl he was snogging? And he kept on anyway?” He shook his head. “Even I wasn’t that bad.”

 

“What was your final count, before Lily?” Moony asked curiously, stretching his legs into a patch of late-afternoon sunshine.

 

Prongs chewed a lip thoughtfully. “Ten.”

 

“Think Harry’ll beat you?”

 

“I’ll be surprised if he does… he’s got to come to his senses about that Daphne girl sooner or later. It’s a bit pathetic.” He grimaced. “Not to speak ill of my son, of course.”

 

“Naturally.” Sirius grinned. “It’s gotten worse since I taught their first year, I think.”

 

“‘Taught’ being a loose expression here,” Moony interjected dryly.

 

“Oi, they loved me. But in first year she was so smitten she didn’t know what to do with herself, and Harry was _completely_ oblivious. I mean, it was amazing. At least now he’s catching on a bit.”

 

“I think it’s less he’s catching on than he’s simply developed his own crush independently and doesn’t know what to do with himself. No less oblivious, just conflicted now.”

 

“Moony the Wise, as ever,” Prongs chuckled.

 

“Well, you wouldn’t believe some of the stuff Roderick tells me.” Sirius reached for a sugar cube and crunched it, contented to be the centre of his friends’ attention. He chewed the sugar slowly, allowing their impatience to build. At last, he swallowed and said, “Harry kissed her on her eleventh birthday.”

 

James put his hands over his face. “And he still hasn’t caught on? He’s me outside and Lily inside!”

 

Sirius and Moony laughed heartily. “But I thought you liked him with that Quidditch player, Katie.”

 

“Sure I do, but there’s no point in having opinions when it’s as clear-cut as this,” he scoffed.

 

“Clear cut as what?” Lily asked from the door. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Nothing,” said Prongs just as Sirius answered “Quidditch.” Lily raised her eyebrows.

 

Moony sighed. “We’re talking about Harry’s romantic future.”

 

“Have you reached a conclusion?” she asked mildly.

 

“Daphne Greengrass.”

 

“Oh come now, they’re just friends,” she admonished, taking a seat across from Moony.

 

Prongs groaned again as the other two laughed. “As I said, me outside, but…”

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N  
> Welcome readers, to my new story! This has been in the works for a LONG time, so a few notes on the aspects of canon I'll be using: believe it or not, I started this before the Cursed Child or any of the backstory on the Potters' history came out, so I just plumb made my own history up and I'm way too lazy to change it now that we have actual information. I've relied mainly on the books, with some aspects of the movies if I happened to like something better, and some things obviously had to be different for this story to work, like James and Lily surviving and Sirius not being in Azkaban. IDK, just go with it. :P
> 
> As for the AU, readers familiar with the genres of Harry Potter fanfiction will probably see where this is going, but I'm not going to label it as anything so that new readers can enjoy the story as it unfolds. I do want to say though, this is not going to be Potter-bashing. There will be conflict within the family, but nothing actively abusive.  
> But anyway, as it says in the description, this version of Harry is two years older than canon: his brother Tom is canon-Harry's age. I've also aged Daphne up (she will consistently be called Delf in the narration, and I named her that BEFORE the Cursed Child came out, for the record! Probably gonna die a little mad about that). Tom and Roderick are my two main OCs and they are going to be very prominently featured.  
> Updates will be on Sunday, one chapter per week (except this week you get two, because getting the prologue alone is sort of cheap imo). I think that's all that needs saying! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Half credit for this story goes to my friend fire1: we developed and outlined this idea together and there's no way it would exist without her. Go check her page out!  
> All characters are owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros, etc.  
> E.I. signing out


End file.
